


Can I Put My Trust In You?

by SunshineOnACloudyDay



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Am I capable of writing about anyone other than my Blue Lion boys? No., Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Transformation, Ashen Demon Byleth, Background Relationships, Can You Even Write A Sylvain Fic Without Referencing Abuse?, Canon-Typical Violence, Edelgard never started a war, F/M, Felix is a good friend, Female My Unit | Byleth, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, It's A Buildingblock Of His Character, Jealous Sylvain Jose Gautier, Just a bit of Pining, Mentioned Caspar von Bergliez, Mentioned Hilda Valentine Goneril, Mercenary My Unit | Byleth, Miklan Being an Asshole (Fire Emblem), Most of the time, POV Sylvain Jose Gautier, Protective My Unit | Byleth, Sad Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier Being An Idiot, Sylvain Jose Gautier Character Study, Sylvain Jose Gautier Has Issues, Sylvain Jose Gautier's Father's Bad Parenting, They all just went through a boring year at the Officer's Academy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:14:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 102,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineOnACloudyDay/pseuds/SunshineOnACloudyDay
Summary: Sylvain Jose Gautier has a reputation. He's a slacking, idiot, philanderer who cares more about sleeping with women than just about anything else. While that might not exactly be true, no one else needs to know that.Trouble finds our begrudging protagonist when he finds a small tavern after ditching his guard. Left with no other choice, he's forced to rely on a blue-haired--and mildly attractive--mercenary woman. Can she get him back to Gautier territory in time? Can his father find someone to fix him? Or will his life take a turn he never could have imagined?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & My Unit | Byleth, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Miklan, Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 105
Kudos: 134





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in Fodlan, with all of the usual suspects, but otherwise it's an AU. Tragedy of Duscur never happened, Jeralt never worked for Rhea, Byleth is just a regular mercenary girl (though still nicknamed the Ashen Demon and still highly skilled), and Sylvain's life at the Officer's Academy was remarkably boring without all of the dramatic events that happen during the game.
> 
> Without the war coming around to help Sylvain pull his head out of his ass, he's still stuck in his philandering and self-destructive ways. This is basically my attempt at a character study, and we're going to hear Sylvain's inner dialogue as he learns more about himself and what he actually wants/deserves from life.
> 
> Also I love Sylvain... so there's that.

He had slipped the Gautier knights that his father had ordered to accompany him, hours ago. He took off ahead of them, taking a different route home from Goneril territory than they had originally planned. If he was going to go home and be forced to pick a bride, he was going to enjoy his last few nights of freedom. He could hardly do that while surrounded by a bunch of uptight knights that only listened to his father.

His mission was to find a bit of semi-distracting fun as he strutted into the small tavern, tousling his auburn hair with a sly smirk. He had just attended the wedding of two of his friends from the Officer’s Academy. Hilda von Goneril had saddled herself with Caspar von Bergliez, of all people. All he could think through the entire affair was that it must be nice to be the second Crested child, still enjoying the fruits of nobility without all of the bullshit honor and duty that comes with being a Crested son of a noble house.

They seemed smitten with each other, and he was happy for them, when he wasn’t seething with jealousy. He only agreed to go to the wedding because it bought him some time before his own unwelcome nuptials. Nuptials to some woman that he probably wouldn’t be able to stand, just like his parents couldn’t stand each other. His father knew he was stalling, but as long as he came home eventually and churned out an heir, he doubted his father would truly care. In fact, he was betting on that fact, thus the little detour.

He shook off the useless thoughts and plastered on his best grin, if not a grin that showed a bit more teeth than usual. He had a reputation throughout Fodlan, and it seemed it stretched even here. That now-familiar ugly feeling reared in his chest as he surveyed the faces of the women in the tavern. 

There were usually three groups: those that had heard of him and weren’t going to fall for his bullshit, those that had heard of him and thought they were the one who could snag him, and those who hadn’t heard of him at all. 

He had a begrudging sense of respect for the first group, a deep-seated hatred for the second, and the most fun with the third.

So, he was scanning the bustling tavern, looking for his next mark, when his eyes landed on quite the prize. Black thigh-high boots caked in dirt, ripped skintight black leggings, a black and grey breastplate that did nothing to hide all of her curves and ample chest, and a flowing grey cloak. She was obviously a mercenary or some other type of fighter, what with the light armor and the silver sword at her hip. However, Sylvain was ready to try his luck if it meant sinking his fingertips into muscular flesh and dusky blue hair. Her face was pretty too, with big blue eyes, pretty pink lips, and fair skin. What someone who looked like her was doing as a mercenary, he would never know.

He leaned against the bar beside her, ignoring the whispers around him, and raised two fingers to the barkeep. His eyes never left the profile of the good-looking fighter beside him as he called, “Two glasses of your most expensive whiskey, if you would, good sir.” The pudgy barkeep looked him over, a sort of smugness in his gaze, and turned back to grab the drinks.

“So,” he drawled, leaning his face into his palm as his elbow rested on the counter, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?”

Beautiful eyes turned to take him in, and he was momentarily lost in deep pools of blue before she asked in a bored tone, “Do greetings like that ever actually work for you?” She then turned away from him, nursing her glass of cheap ale.

He furrowed his brow slightly, finding himself confused by the lack of reaction from her. He decided to try his hand one more time, actually somewhat intrigued by this one. “Only with the easy ones,” he drawled in his usual flirtatious tone, “but I can tell you’re special. You aren’t going to fall for my usual tricks, are you?” 

She snorted softly and took a long drink of her drink as he walked around to lean in front of her again. If she was going to play hard to get, he’d play for a while. The barkeep slid his drinks over, and he paid for them while sliding some extra coin his way. He was a playboy, not a complete asshole. The man could use the coin more than he could.

“All you noble boys are the same, aren’t you?” she huffed into her drink.

“You’ll find that I’m different,” he cooed as he leaned closer, framing his body in a way he knew showed off his shoulders—Dorothea once begrudgingly told him they were his best feature—and ran his fingers through his tousled red hair.

She looked him over with those piercing blue eyes, and part of him tensed as it felt like she was looking straight through him. She pursed her lips, tilted her head thoughtfully, and then after a moment of what looked like contemplation, shook her head. “No thanks, though I’m sure you’ll find success elsewhere.” It was a rejection dressed as a slight compliment, and he wasn’t sure how to take that. He was almost… upset? This girl seemed like she might actually be someone worth talking to. He was so used to everyone fawning over him, that this was kind of odd for him. 

She scooted off her stool, landing with a soft click of the heels of her boots. “Hey now—,” he reached out and grabbed her wrist, intent on pulling her attention back to him, and was surprised when he found his cheek pressed against the counter before he had even finished blinking. His arm was twisted behind his back in a way that he suspected would pull his arm from its socket if she put the correct amount of pressure.

He whistled lowly and crooned, “Are you always this rough? I knew you looked like fun.” She let a heavy breath out of her nose in what almost sounded like amusement, while tightening her hold, making him hiss between his teeth. 

“What have I told you about laying hands on noble brats?” a gruff sounding voice asked from behind him.

“I’m not going to hurt him,” the woman answered evenly, “ _much_. Besides, he was just moving on.” She let him go with a slight shove, and he adjusted his clothing as he stood up straight again. He turned and looked over the mountain of a man in front of him. His sandy blonde hair was short on the top with a rat tail in the back, scars littered his face and hands, and he wore finely crafted armor. He guessed it was another member of whatever group the blue-haired woman worked for. Or maybe a boyfriend? Nah, a boyfriend would have punched him by now. They didn’t look similar, so he didn’t really think they could be family.

The older man placed a hand on the young woman’s shoulder and with a touch of amusement said, “Thomas was looking for you, Kid. Something about how you promised to show him some trick with his bow or whatnot. Are you teaching my men behind my back?”

She shrugged off his hand with a huffed, “Someone has to teach your strays how to fight.” The man gave her a sharp look and shoved her in the direction of the door before glaring in his direction, but he was already turning back to the bar. He knew when it wasn’t going to work out, so it certainly didn’t bother him. She was probably more trouble than she was worth, anyway.

He grabbed his drinks and turned to scan the tavern again. The sandy haired man rolled his eyes, mumbled something about asshole nobles under his breath, and walked over to a table of fighters in the corner. 

It was starting to get late. He could see the colors of sunset streaming through the windows of the tavern, casting everything in a soft orange glow. As he scanned the room again, his eyes fell on another mark. Short ginger hair fell in waves around her head, and when she smiled at him, her light brown eyes glistened. The low-cut dress she was wearing showed her ample cleavage, though she was a lot plainer than the fighter had been. She wiggled her fingers in greeting and giggled into her fist. 

A wry smirk pulled at his lips. _Bingo._

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he cooed as he slid onto the bench beside her. He slid the extra drink in front of her and she looked between him and the glass with an awed expression. “I’ve got to buy a drink for the prettiest woman in here, don’t I?”

She giggled again, leaning her cheek into her palm as she looked him over. “Does the strapping gentleman have a name?” she asked with an eager tone.

“Sylvain Jose Gautier, at your service.” He mock saluted his fingers with his signature grin. Her eyes became sharper as she nibbled at her lower lip, scooting closer to him as she wrapped her hand around her drink. 

_It really was too easy sometimes._

“And what’s your name, princess?” he asked as he draped an arm casually over the back of the bench.

“You can call me… Kronya,” she replied with hungry eyes, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m sure the pleasure is all mine,” he purred, taking a sip of his drink. It wasn’t bad by small tavern standards. He drank better at home, but he wasn’t home now. And he really didn’t want to be home right now. 

They had a few drinks as the tavern filled with more and more patrons. The tavern doubled as an inn, and many began to trickle to the rooms upstairs. He caught a glimpse of the blue-haired fighter from earlier. She met his gaze from across the room for the barest moment before walking up the stairs, presumably to retire for the evening. He was quick to shake thoughts of her from his head as he turned back to Kronya.

He barely caught her as she poured a vial of clear liquid into her own drink. He tried not to portray his suspicion as he asked, “What’s that you’ve got there, baby?” He was no fool. There had been plenty of women in the past that had thought they could drug him and take advantage, figuring as long as they got pregnant and had a Crested heir, they would get some sort of reward.

His asshole father probably would reward them. That’s about how much the old man cared.

She giggled into her fist and coyly whispered, “Well… if we’re going to have some fun tonight, I have to be prepared, right?” 

He was slightly surprised, though he didn’t let it show on his face. She had immediately shown interest after he said his name, and he had assumed that she was like every other woman and she was only interested in the possibility of becoming pregnant if they had an entertaining night together. However, it seemed he was wrong. Maybe this night was going to be more fun than he thought.

He lifted his hand to order two more and when a waitress came over, he asked for a key to a room. He’d left his saddlebags with his horse, but he figured he’d grab them after he got Kronya out of the room. He didn’t want to risk her taking any of his stuff, which had also happened in the past.

Kronya giggled flirtatiously and draped herself on his shoulder as he took another sip of his drink. Maybe it was a good thing the blue-haired fighter had turned him down. She didn’t seem the adoring type anyway.

He finished off his drink in one go, coughing a bit as a weird aftertaste hit his tongue. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked down at his glass, but shook it off as Kronya started chattering away again. “—guy that I work with is just so annoying. He thinks that he’s so much better than me, but he’s really not.”

“No one’s better than you, baby,” he mindlessly replied, shooting her a grin as he picked up his fresh drink. He was starting to get a bit too inebriated. He could tell by the slight haze in his mind and the warmth that was spreading through his extremities. Maybe he’d had a bit too much. Odd, he thought he’d been more careful. “What do you say we move this conversation somewhere more… comfortable?”

“Sure,” Kronya purred, twining their fingers together as she pulled him up from the table. He stumbled slightly as he trudged after her, and alarm bells went off in his head. He hadn’t had that much to drink. He knew his limit, and he hadn’t had nearly that much. He had only had enough to make sleeping with some random girl appealing.

“Did you—” he slurred, but was cut off as she pushed him into the room. When had they even gotten up the stairs? How out of it was he? She pushed him up against the door and bit his bottom lip, giggling mirthlessly as she pulled at it with her teeth.

“You were rather easy, noble boy,” she jeered as she pushed against him, “That’s too bad. I was hoping for more of a challenge.” 

“What did you…” the words were clumsy on his tongue as he slouched against the door. The edges of his vision were starting to get fuzzy. She must have switched their glasses when he wasn’t looking. He was such a fucking idiot sometimes. 

_Fuck… maybe I should have stayed with the knights._

He fumbled for the door handle, but Kronya stabbed a dagger into the door, nicking his skin as it pinned his shirt to the hard wood. “Uh uh uh,” she sang with a wave of her pointer finger, “I promised the client the finished product. You won’t get away that easily. You’ll have to wait with me until our little concoction kicks in.”

“Client?” he breathlessly asked, trying to think about what he could do to get out of here. This was rapidly taking a turn that he wouldn’t have expected. There weren’t usually knives involved when a woman wanted to take advantage of him while he was drunk, so this couldn’t be good. It was really too bad he hadn’t taken any interest in brawling like Felix had at the Academy. 

Goddess… Felix. He was never going to hear the end of it if the raven-haired swordsman got wind of this.

“You’ve pissed off all the wrong people, Gautier,” she sneered. Another knife appeared out of nowhere and was dragged against his jaw. It stung, but he didn’t think it drew blood. “But don’t you worry, I wasn’t hired to kill you. I was hired to train you, like the good little boy you are. Aren’t you?”

“Train…” he reached over with his other hand and pulled at the knife in the door, “this… bitch.” He drunkenly slashed at her and she cackled as she stepped back.

“You think you’re going to fight, do you?” she jeered, seeming excited by the very idea, “Alright then, pretty boy. Let’s dance.”

He had no interest in dancing. The only thing he had interest in was getting the fuck out of here. He threw the knife in her direction, and as she dodged it, he pulled the door open. He stumbled out into the hallway, dragging his hand along the wall to try and keep himself upright. 

His tongue felt heavy as he weakly called, “Help! I need help!”

“Get back here,” Kronya growled, pulling at the back of his shirt. He tried to pull against her, but his limbs were feeling heavy now. It was a good thing he was so much bigger than her, because she actually seemed to be having difficulty dragging him back into the room, even in his drugged state.

Like a blessing from the goddess, the door just in front of him opened and the blue-haired fighter from earlier stepped out with her sword drawn. He begged, “Help… drugged…” She looked into his hazy eyes for a moment before pulling his arm with her free hand and placing herself between him and his attacker.

She pointed her sword at Kronya and growled, “Get out of here. Now.”

Kronya laughed, a shrill, evil-sounding thing, and pulled two long black knives from behind her back. _Where in the hell did she pull those from? I really am a fool._ “You won’t be taking my prize from me that easily.”

“Run,” the blue-haired fighter whispered, right as Kronya lunged toward them. He hesitated for the briefest second until she whistled a high note and parried one of Kronya’s knives. He turned back down the hallway, and started down the stairs. He thought he heard doors opening, but he couldn’t be sure with how muddled his brain was.

“Where do you think you’re going, pretty boy?!” Kronya’s voice called from down the hall, but he ignored it in favor of tripping down the stairs. His vision was hazy now, but he stumbled toward the door of the tavern, brushing past a few guys who laughed at him—probably assuming he was just another drunk idiot. 

His only thought was that he needed to get the fuck out of here. He walked out into the fresh air and took a deep breath, clearing his head a little. He could hear shouting upstairs and he idly wondered whether the blue-haired fighter was okay as he staggered out into the night. 

His limbs weren’t working properly, so when he came across a covered wagon, he weakly pulled himself inside. He curled up in the corner as his eyelids became heavy, and with a ragged breath, he drifted off to sleep.

“Hey boy,” someone cooed as they scratched along his head pleasantly, “you can’t sleep here. Hop down now.” 

He cracked open his eyes and groaned slightly as his head pounded. His groan sounded a bit off, but he ignored that fact in favor of looking at the blue-haired fighter from last night. She was wearing a short sleeved cropped shirt now, and he could see that her torso was bandaged. She was even prettier in the sunlight. She scratched his head again with a soft smile and said, “You can’t sleep here, bud. I’ve gotta pack up, and you’re in the way.”

He yawned and groggily mumbled, “Bud?” Suddenly he remembered the events of the previous night and more alertly said, “What happened last night? Did you get that Kronya bitch? Whatever she gave me—”

“Fuck!” the blue-haired woman hollered as she stumbled backwards, dropping the covering of the wagon closed. He lifted his head, about to move to lift the covering again, but she quickly came back. She pulled open the cover and hesitantly poked her head in. “I’m going crazy,” she mumbled, as she stared at him wide-eyed.

“Have I already got you going crazy, babe? I haven’t even done anything yet,” he chuckled with his best grin, “But I can certainly—”

“Wait…” she quizzically whispered as she straightened, her features quickly becoming stern again, “you sound like the douchebag from the bar?”

“Well, you certainly know how to injure a man’s pride,” he playfully pouted as he turned his head away, “I didn’t think my face was that forgettable.”

“Uhh…” she awkwardly shuffled her feet, he could hear the sound of her shoes scraping in the dirt, “you don’t… exactly… look like yourself anymore.”

“What?” He lifted his head to look at her again and she tilted her head curiously as she looked him over. “What in the goddess’ name are you talking about?”

Her head disappeared again for a moment, and he groaned in frustration, but then she was back again with a small hand mirror. “Here,” she muttered as she held it out to him. He moved to take it, and that’s when he realized it.

Where his hand should be, there was a…

“PAW?!” he shouted frantically as he lifted it into the air. His eyes darted to the mirror and he screamed at the top of his lungs. In the mirror he saw a red-coated dog, with red floppy ears. He still had honey-colored brown eyes, and the fur was similar to the color of his hair, but he was definitely a dog. A fucking DOG! He scrambled to his feet, his paws, his whatever, but crashed back to the floor as they buckled beneath him.

“Hey now,” the blue-haired woman held out her hands in what he assumed was supposed to be an attempt to placate him, “you’ve got to calm down.”

“Calm down?!” he shrieked, “I’m a fucking dog?! How in the hell am I supposed to CALM DOWN?! Where is that bitch, Kronya?! What did she slip me?! She’s got to change me back!”

“She warped away before I could capture her,” the blue-haired woman reported with a curl of her lip. She didn’t look pleased at the fact that Kronya had gotten away, but her displeasure was hardly his concern. He had much bigger problems.

“SHE WHAT?!” he shrieked, followed by an involuntary snarl-sounding bark that made her eyes sharpen as she narrowed them at him.

“Calm down,” she hissed, “or you’re going to gather unwanted attention.”

“What’s going on, Kid?” the voice of the man from yesterday called from somewhere outside the wagon, “Who’s hollering like that?”

“You should see this, Jeralt,” the woman called, beckoning him closer, “Remember how we couldn’t find the drugged redheaded noble from last night?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I thought the attacker got away with him?” Sylvain could hear his heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

“Not exactly…” the woman murmured as she lifted the sheet higher and allowed the man to catch a glimpse of him where he was currently working on figuring out how to stand while having four legs. 

The man looked him over briefly before stating, “It’s a dog, Kid.”

“Well, that dog,” he snarled in reply, “Is Sylvain Jose Gautier, heir to House Gautier of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and you idiots let the crazy lady who did this to me get away!” His shouting was followed by another involuntary bark of frustration as he tried and failed to stand up again. 

_Felix, Ingrid, and Dimitri can never find out about this… I'll never live this down._

“Holy fuck,” the mountain of a man gaped at him as he finally managed to stand up. “And I thought I’d seen it all…”

“We didn’t let her go,” the blue-haired woman indignantly retorted with a huffed breath, “she warped away after stabbing me. Besides, you’re the idiot who hit on her in the first place.”

“What? So, it’s my fault now?!” he growled.

“More than it is ours,” she remarked with a sharp glare, “I was trying to save your sorry ass. I thought she got away with you when we couldn’t find you.”

“Well, she didn’t!” he angrily cried, “And now you need to get me to Gautier territory! Immediately!”

“No can do,” the sandy-haired man grumbled with a slow shake of his head, “We’ve got a high-pay job in the Empire. Gautier is way too out of the way for us.”

“Whatever your high-paying client is paying, my father will double it,” he snidely countered, “Just get me to fucking Gautier territory.” His father would be VERY displeased, but he couldn’t very well leave his heir a dog, now could he? How’s he going to going to get married and produce a Crest bearing heir in this state?

The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he suddenly saw a bit of resemblance between the man and the woman. “It’s a hard pass. Whatever this fucked up magic shit is, I want no part of it.”

“Father…” the blue-haired woman beside him softened slightly. _So, they are related._ “Gautier is one of the most powerful houses in the Kingdom. They can afford it, and it would help us get other work.”

He nodded his head, making his fluffy ears flop slightly. “Listen to your daughter, dude. Take the job.”

“No,” the man refused again, “Hard pass. We’ve got the job in the Empire, and we’re not getting involved with this nonsense. My decision is final, Kid.”

“I’ll take him,” she retorted with a crossing of her arms, dropping the sheet closed so Sylvain could no longer see them. He stuck his nose… snout thing… out between the two pieces of fabric and they parted just enough for him to see the pair as they bickered. “I’ll take him up to Gautier, and meet you in Enbarr when I’m done. We need the gold, and you know it.”

“You’re not doing it, Kid. I’ve already made my decision,” the man grumbled with the same stubborn crossing of his arms. “That crazy lady nearly killed you last night. You aren’t getting involved.” 

“He’s a talking dog,” she exasperatedly cried, “We have to help him!” 

“No. Now load up the wagon, we’re leaving in fifteen.” The man stormed away, obviously not willing to argue this any further.

The blue-haired woman turned to him and hesitantly reached up to pull the sheet to the side. “Alright,” she softly murmured, “out you get.”

“What?” he barked, literally it came out sounding like a bark, “You’re just going to leave me like this?!”

“You heard him,” she sighed, “Boss says I can’t take you.”

“Don’t listen to him, then!” he argued, sitting down with a huff, “Take me to Gautier yourself, like you said you would.”

“I’m not going anywhere without my father,” she sharply retorted, narrowing her eyes again, “Now you need to get out of the wagon. Now.”

“No,” he barked again. “You let the crazy lady get away, now you’re going to help me get to Gautier so my father can find someone to fix me.”

She snorted derisively and climbed into the wagon. He yelped as she grabbed him around his middle and then dropped him just outside of the wagon. He landed clumsily and had to roll back onto all fours. “I can’t help you,” she called from inside the wagon, and then her features softened slightly as she added, “though I am sorry you are in this mess. You may be a philanderer, but I doubt you deserve this.”

She jumped out of the wagon and bent down to pick up the bags on the ground, throwing two of them in with strong arms. He could see the muscles shifting in her back and shoulders, muscles that must have been strengthen by a lot of fighting. 

He shook his distracting thoughts away and walked over to paw at her leg. Like this, his head reached about where her hip was. “Hey!” he indignantly called, “You can’t just leave me here! What if she comes back?”

Goddess… what if she comes back? Who had hired her anyway? She said she was supposed to train him, but to do what? Maybe it was just a bad joke about the fact that she was turning him into a fucking dog. He _really_ hoped it was just a bad joke.

The woman sighed and straightened to standing, lightly pushing his head away. He idly thought that he preferred the scratches. “Jeralt said—”

“You’re just going to let him treat you like a child?” he interrupted, deciding it was time to switch tactics here, “You don’t look like a child to me. You look like an adult who can make her own decisions.”

“He’s my father,” she grumbled, “I’m not going to just leave him because some asshole is demanding I do something for him.”

“Fine,” he barked as he turned and stumbled slightly as he walked away. _Damn four legs getting all tripped up all the time._ “I’ll just find someone else to take me.”

“Good luck,” she softly called, “I think there’s another merc group that stayed in the inn last night. You might have luck with them.” She then bent down and returned to her work.

“Fucking mercenaries,” he grumbled under his breath. His father had always warned that mercenaries only worked for those who paid the most. They had no loyalties, and thus couldn’t be trusted. House Gautier only called on mercenaries for when they were absolutely desperate. It seemed that now was one of those times.

He took in the area as he slowly became more and more confident on his four legs. He paced near some trees, trying to keep his eyes off of the blue-haired woman as she packed up her things. Once he was confident he could make it without falling on his face, he walked toward the door of the tavern. When it opened, he slipped past the man who had opened it and walked toward the bar.

“Hey now!” a male voice shouted, “You’re not supposed to be in here! Git!” The pudgy barkeep he’d ordered from last night walked toward him, swinging his arms as he tried to corral him toward the door.

“Wait!” he called, startling the man so badly he stumbled backwards onto his ass with a cry of alarm, “I’m Sylvain Jose Gautier. I’m trying to hire someone to take me back to Gautier territory.”

“What the…” the barkeep stared with wide eyes, “You’re the noble from last night? But you’re a—”

“Dog! Yes!” he snapped, rapidly losing patience, “Now is there someone staying here that I can talk to? A woman told me there were two groups of mercenaries staying at the inn.”

“There’s the Blade Breaker’s crew,” the man hesitantly responded, still looking like he couldn’t believe he was talking to a dog, “and another, much smaller, company.”

Blade Breaker… _shit_. Jeralt the Blade Breaker was notorious around Fodlan. His crew was infamous for being one of the most highly trained and honest crews. Though, they obviously weren’t that great if they weren’t willing to help him. The stories must have been exaggerated.

“The Blade Breaker already turned me down. I need the leader of the other crew,” he grumbled to the poor barkeep.

“What the hell, Sal?” a male’s voice called from behind him, “You’ve got a talking dog?”

“It’s not mine, Jerry,” the barkeep desperately explained, like it would reflect poorly on him if he had a talking dog in his establishment, “He’s looking for you and your crew. He’s trying to hire somebody to take him back to Gautier territory.”

Sylvain turned to see a man in light armor, with dirty brown hair and scruff on his face, standing at the bottom of the stairs. He could tell this man wasn’t nearly as accomplished as the Blade Breaker purely from looking at his armor and weapons. However, at this point, beggers couldn’t exactly be choosers. 

“Gautier?” the mercenary asked with a tilting of his head. There was an analyzing look in his eye as he looked Sylvain over, “Why in the world is a talking dog trying to get to Gautier?”

“Because this dog is actually the heir to House Gautier,” he quite literally growled, “I’ve been changed somehow, but that’s not important right now. All you need to know is that my father will pay you handsomely if you take me to him.”

The man’s eyes analyzed him one more time before he shrugged his shoulders. “Sure,” he easily replied, “We’ll take ya. Let me get my men and we’ll get going.” He held up a hand and teasingly ordered, “Stay.” He chuckled at his own—rather unamusing—joke and walked back up the stairs, already hollering for his men. 

“You’ve gotta wait outside,” the barkeep said in a trembling voice, “I know you say you’re a person and all, but I can’t allow dogs in here.”

“I’m not a—” he groaned in frustration and rolled his eyes, “Fine. Tell Jerry I’m waiting outside.” He turned and walked toward the door, and quickly ran into his first problem. “Will you at least open the door for me?” he barked. The barkeep quickly walked to the door and pulled it open, looking at him fearfully as he walked back outside.

He walked over and plopped down underneath a tree, placing his head between his front paws. He was trying not to panic, he really was, but what the fuck was he supposed to do now? He was a dog! What if his father couldn’t find someone to fix him? And he could only imagine what he and Miklan would have to say about his situation. A shiver went down his spine at the very thought.

A small whimper sound echoed through him involuntarily, and he rolled his eyes and huffed out an annoyed breath. “Great… just fucking great...”

“Any luck?” He glared up at the blue-haired woman who was now standing in front of him with her head tilted to her fist.

“You are part of the Blade Breaker’s crew,” he said somewhat accusingly, “You’re the Blade Breaker’s daughter!”

“Figured that out, did ya?” she smugly retorted, but quickly became somber again. She squatted down and asked again, “Did you have any luck with the other crew?”

“It’s hardly any of your business,” he huffed and dropped his head back between his paws, “I don’t see why you care.” That whine sound happened again, and he let out a bark in frustration. It was hard to cover up your emotions like he normally did when your body kept betraying you.

“You’re right,” she sighed as she slowly moved to standing again, “Well… I hope you get home alright.” She started walking toward the door of the tavern, right as Jerry and what Sylvain could only assume was his crew, walked out. There were about fourteen men of various shapes and sizes, all in crude armor with low grade weapons like Jerry had. Hopefully, there would be no fighting involved with this journey. They just had to know how to read a freaking map.

“Hey there, Dog Gautier,” Jerry jokingly called, “You ready to go?”

“More than,” he barked, “I’m waiting for you.” The blue-haired woman looked back at him and he shot her a glare before looking back toward Jerry. 

As soon as the blue-haired woman was inside, Jerry scanned the area and nodded toward one of his men. The man stepped toward him, and Sylvain quickly got to his feet as he took a bundle of rope out from behind his back. He growled menacingly and barked, “What the hell do you think you’re doing with that?”

“Apparently you’re a flight risk,” Jerry sneered, “We don’t get paid if you get away.” 

The man with the rope grabbed him harshly by the scruff of his neck and he yelped as he tried to pull away. “Just… sit… still…” the man grunted as he pulled and fought against him. He growled at him before sinking his teeth into his arm. _Disgusting…_ The man cursed loudly as another man kicked him in the side. He yelped in pain as he fell to the ground. 

He groaned as he tried and failed to stand back up. He whimpered, “Just leave me alone.”

“Can’t do that,” Jerry smugly retorted, “We’ve been promised a pretty sack of gold for your return. I kinda thought the bitch was crazy when she told me to find a talking dog. Imagine my surprise when you came straight to me! Must be my lucky day.”

The man he had bitten tightly bound his legs, and then kicked him again for good measure. He yelped in pain and dropped his head back to the dusty ground. “My father will pay you double whatever she promised,” he rasped, “Just take me to Gautier, and you’ll get your gold.”

“Can’t do that, Dog Gautier,” Jerry replied, walking over to squat near him with a smarmy grin, “She already gave me half the payment up front. I don’t need that group after me.”

“What group?” he weakly asked, as one of the men lifted him up.

“You’ll see soon, you—” Jerry didn’t get another word in, because at that moment a woman’s voice shouted, “Put him down.”

The men all turned and Sylvain opened his eyes to see the blue-haired woman with her sword drawn again. “And if we don’t?” one of the men to his right jeered.

“I’ll take the dog from you by force,” the blue-haired woman threatened in a low voice.

“It’s fifteen to one, sweetheart,” Jerry jeered as he condescendingly patted Sylvain’s head, making him snap his teeth at him in retaliation, “The way I see it, you don’t stand a chance. So, we’ll be taking our payday now.”

“This is your last warning,” the blue-haired woman called, “Put the dog DOWN.” Sylvain considered retorting that he wasn’t actually a dog, but if she was going to try and keep him away from that Kronya lady, he figured now wasn’t the time.

“Take care of this bitch,” Jerry commanded as he took Sylvain into his arms. He tried to wiggle out, but Jerry grabbed his snout and squeezed painfully, making him whimper softly, and ran into the trees. The sound of steel on steel sounded out behind them as Jerry ran. He kept trying to get away and Jerry grunted, “Stop moving, damn it!” 

The oaf tripped over a tree root and fell on top of him, knocking the air from his lungs. The hand was no longer on his snout though, so he barked as loud as he could, hoping that the blue-haired woman was better with a sword than he initially thought.

“Shut up!” Jerry grunted, clamping a hand back down over his snout as he lifted him, “Or I’ll fucking make you.”

A few moments later, footsteps sounded out behind them, and Sylvain just barely spotted a blur of black and blue in the trees before Jerry started running again. They weaved through the trees as Jerry tried to shake her, but failed spectacularly. She was too fast for him, and Sylvain could hear her as she got closer and closer. She slashed the back of his knees, and Jerry fell again. Crushing him, AGAIN. 

Sylvain looked up at the blue haired woman. Blood was speckled across her face as she stepped forward with her sword drawn. “I said,” she growled lowly, “give me the dog.” 

She was actually quite terrifying when she was like this. Gone was the soft smile from before, now her features were completely blank as she slowly walked toward them. It was chilling in a way he had never really seen before. Not to mention the fact that she had just taken out fourteen men by herself, and disposed of them quickly enough to come after them.

“Fuck you!” Jerry jeered in an idiotic act of defiance, “If I don’t bring her the dog, I’m dead anyway.”

She stalked forward, and Sylvain wondered if she was really going to kill him, but she hit him over the head with the hilt over her sword instead, knocking him out. She turned to him and he stared up at her, finding himself at a loss for what to say for the first time in his life.

She stared down at him with those deep blue eyes, her hair wild, her face blood spattered, and tiredly asked, “Who the hell did you mess with?”

He barked out a weak laugh—his ribs still aching from where he had been kicked and crushed repeatedly—and rasped, “I have no idea.”

Concern leaked into her features as she knelt down beside him. She pulled a dagger from the sheathe on her hip and cut his legs loose as she softly whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’ve been turned into a dog, I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere, and apparently a group of people is out to get me,” he grunted as he tried to get to his feet, “Does it sound like I’m okay?” Luckily, he could still stand, so that was a plus.

“I was meaning are you injured?” she sighed, her tone becoming slightly annoyed.

He grumbled, “They kicked me a couple times, but otherwise I think I’m fine.” He looked down at Jerry, unconscious on the ground, and then up at the woman. “Will you help me now? Please?” 

She sheathed her dagger with a soft click and wiped the blood from her sword on Jerry’s pants. She sheathed the blade and looked down at him with a thoughtful look on her face. The small whimper sound happened again, maybe slightly on purpose this time, and she sighed. 

As she walked back toward the tavern she grumbled, “Jeralt is really not going to like this.”  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Violence, though nothing is graphic. Mentioned nudity, though again nothing super graphic.

He followed the blue-haired woman back toward the tavern, only tripping a few times. He wondered when he would finally figure out how to walk without tripping all over his new limbs, but quickly shook the thought away because he hoped to be turned back to normal before he had the chance to become accustomed to them.

“Hey,” he called, desperate to think of something other than his current situation, “what is your name? You never told me.”

“You never asked,” she responded in a neutral tone. Her head seemed to be on a constant swivel to check their surroundings, and he wondered whether that was the mercenary in her, or whether it was due to the sticky situation they currently found themselves in. He supposed Jerry’s men could still be coming after him if she had only incapacitated them as she had Jerry.

“Well… I’m asking now,” he huffed, awkwardly running until he could look up and see her face.

She looked down at him with those eyes, the ones that seemed to look right through him and answered, “It’s Byleth.”

“Well… thank you, Byleth. If it weren’t for you…” he trailed off, looking away from her to focus on where they were walking. He wasn’t sure what would have happened if she hadn’t shown up, but he didn’t want to think about it too much. “Though,” he chimed in a slightly teasing tone, “if you would’ve just slept with me, this probably wouldn’t have happened.”

She huffed a breathy laugh and argued, “If you would have bothered to come up with some better lines I might have.”

“Really?” he crooned, finding the transition back to flirting a lot easier than trying to have a real conversation, “Admit it, you think I’m hot.”

She huffed another breathy laugh, one that he idly thought he found preferable to the obnoxious giggles he normally got from women, and retorted, “I think you make a handsome dog. Sure.”

“Hey!” He whined indignantly, making her smirk as she gracefully leapt over a large tree root, “Now that’s just cruel.”

Their banter came to an abrupt halt as she held out a hand in a command to stop. Sylvain looked ahead in confusion, trying to figure out what was going on. They had gotten closer to the edge of the tree line that surrounded the tavern, and he looked out to see that there was a group of men—dressed in fine armor with silver weapons—standing in front of the inn. He could see that they were talking to the beat-up members of Jerry’s crew, though they were too far away to hear exactly what was being said. 

Byleth pulled him roughly behind a tree, and he was about to open his mouth to object when one of the men—who happened to sport a swollen eye he imagined was courtesy of Byleth—pointed into the trees where they were currently hiding. Byleth cursed under her breath as both groups of men started walking closer, then silently motioned him to follow her as she crouched down and darted away.

After putting a few yards between them and the place where the men would enter the small wooded area, she knelt down behind a tree, pulling him beside her again. They silently watched as both groups of men walked into the trees. He could hear the man who had kicked him and tied his legs explaining how Byleth—or “the bitch with the blue hair” in his colorful description—had gone after Jerry, who had tried to secure “the talking noble dog”. 

The man he was speaking to—whom Sylvain assumed was the other group’s leader—wore a white mask that covered the upper half of his face. He nodded with a low grunt of acknowledgement and raised his right hand to snap his fingers. Sylvain let out a small gasp as each of Jerry’s men were grabbed from behind and had their throats cut. Their bodies hit the ground with a stomach-churning thud. They didn’t even have time to scream.

Byleth clamped a hand over his snout, softer than Jerry had, and pulled him to her chest as she flattened herself against the trunk of the tree. None of the killers said anything, though he could hear them shifting around, and he strained his ears to try and see if they were going to come after him and Byleth. He really hoped he didn’t just put them in danger. 

Soon the footsteps started walking away, heading further into the trees. He could only assume they were looking for Jerry, or for them. “Fuck,” she whispered under her breath, “who the hell did you piss off?”

“I really don’t know,” he gulped as he looked out over at the dead bodies. It looked like the killers had rummaged through their pockets before leaving the corpses behind. The Blue Lions had taken out overly aggressive bandits a few times toward the end of his time at the Officer’s Academy, but the Knights of Seiros had been the ones to do most of the actual killing. He had also killed in a few skirmishes at the border to Sreng as well, sure. But the killing he did was never like that. The killing he did was in battle, where he was defending his lands against would-be invaders. This type of killing was just… horrifying.

The situation he was in had suddenly become much worse than he had thought. It seemed Byleth shared in his thought process. “We have to get you out of here,” she urgently whispered, as she began sneaking toward the tavern again, “But first, we need to warn my father.”

Byleth stashed him in the wagon again, and he waited anxiously as she went to talk to her father. He wondered if he could trust her. She was a mercenary, so she could just be vying for whatever payment Jerry and his guys had been after, but he supposed she would have just turned him over to those men if that were the case. 

She had sounded interested in helping at first, though she was too loyal to her father to go against his orders. It seemed that her stepping in to save him from Jerry’s men had set her on a path that put her in the same danger Jerry’s men had been in, though she at least knew she was in danger. Jerry’s men had died without any chance to even try to defend themselves. Their faces as they were slaughtered were practically burned into the back of his eyelids now.

After several agonizing minutes, the familiar head of blue hair leapt into the wagon. “We’re leaving on foot,” she hurriedly murmured, moving throughout the wagon as she gathered supplies from various crates and through them in a large travel pack, “and we’re leaving now. They tried to interrogate my father and his men, but none of them knew anything about you. The innkeeper, Sal, is the one who told them about Jerry and his crew. Either way, after that guys’ description of me, they are looking for both of us.”

She threw a travel pack over her shoulder and peeked out through the crack in the cover. She pulled back with a hissed breath and put her hand on his head. “Shit… they’re out there again. They must have found our pal, Jerry.” 

That small whimper sound happened again, definitely involuntarily this time, and she looked down at him pityingly. “Hey,” she whispered softly, “it’s going to be okay. I’m going to get you out of here.”

“I’m fine,” he hissed back, “that sound just happens sometimes.” She was looking at him with that “I see right through you” stare again and he looked down at the ground instead. The sound of hoof beats rang out nearby, closely followed by the sound of people talking near the wagon. Byleth moved him behind a stack of crates and tried to pile them around him without making too much sound.

She whispered, “Try to be quiet,” then walked toward the front of the wagon. 

He strained his ears to try and hear what was going on, but all he could hear was the faint sound of people speaking in hushed tones and horses huffing as they stomped their hooves. He felt bad for Misty, the steed he’d had the last few years. He prayed that the Gautier knights would find this place so she wouldn’t be left here too long, but he doubted it would actually happen. The innkeeper would most likely sell her off with the rest of his things. It was too late to do anything about it now, though.

He heard footsteps coming toward him again, and he crouched down in an effort to hide as much as he possibly could. He straightened when he saw that it was Byleth. “We can’t leave the wagon,” she whispered hurriedly, “Those men are still walking around the grounds, and they are putting pressure on the innkeeper to try and get more information about you. My father has agreed to take us as far as Gloucester, though we’ll split up there. My father and the group will head to Enbarr, while we head toward Gautier. We won’t be able to take a horse, so we’ll both be on foot.” Almost as an afterthought she added, “Sorry.”

“Sorry?” he incredulously whispered, “You’re probably the only reason I’m not dead right now… or something worse.” He wasn’t exactly afraid of dying, but the thought of whatever else Kronya and those other people could do to him was unpleasant. He was already a dog, who knew what else they were capable of?

“Just remember that the next time you want to be a noble asshole, okay?” she lightly teased, though it fell flat with the amount of apprehension in her tone. Moments after, they both jerked as the wagon began to move. 

“Right,” he grumbled, looking down at the wooden floor of the wagon. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t been very kind to her, had he? Part of his brain argued that he had a valid excuse, what with the emotional stress that comes from waking up as a dog, but he knew that either way Ingrid would probably be smacking him upside the head and lecturing him about his manners right now. 

Maybe it was being stuck in this hopeless situation, but he was really missing his friends right about now. As much as he hated the thought of their teasing—inevitably to cover up how much they would be worrying about him—he wished they were here right now. Would it be worth it to try and get to one of them? They would pass through the Galatea and Fraldarius territories before they would reach Gautier. Count Galatea didn’t hold much power within the Kingdom, so it most likely would not be worth it to drag Ingrid’s family into his mess. However, Lord Rodrigue might be able to help him. At the very least he could probably afford to send a battalion of knights to inform his father of what was happening.

“Hey,” he hissed to try and get Byleth’s attention. Once those blue eyes were looking at him again, he whispered, “I have connections in Fraldarius. Do you think it would be worth it to go there? Lord Rodrigue might be able to send some knights to inform my father of what’s going on, and a battalion of pegasus knights would certainly get there faster than we would on foot.”

She dropped the pack off of her back and pulled out a map of Fodlan, laying it flat on the floor of the wagon. She traced a finger over the map, moving her lips soundlessly like she was planning it out in her head. “That might be safer for you, actually,” she mused with a tilt of her head, “they probably wouldn’t look for you there. We can send word to your family that you’re safe and get you more adequate protection.”

He thought that being the woman who single-handedly took down fifteen guys after having been stabbed last night made her pretty adequate protection, but he didn’t bother to say as much. “How tight are these connections?” she asked.

“My best friend—though he would never actually never admit that fact—is Felix Hugo Fraldarius. He’s the second son of House Fraldarius. The heir—his older brother, Glenn—and I are fairly close, as well.”

“Pays to have friends in high places, I guess,” she whispered as she quirked a weak smile.

“I just hope I’m not dragging more people into this mess I’ve somehow made,” he answered with a dip of his head. Jerry’s men tried to harm him, but Byleth had done nothing but try to help him. If something happened to her, it would be his fault.

“Hey,” she put a hand between his ears, but then quickly pulled it back to her side, “it will be alright. We’ll try to figure this out, I promise.”

He looked up at her and accusingly asked, “Why are you even helping me? You weren’t interested an hour ago. Is it the money? The esteem?”

The worry in her features quickly vanished as she sat back on her heels and rolled up the map. She brusquely responded, “Sure. I am a mercenary, after all.” She stood up with a wide stance in an effort to stay steady in the moving wagon and ordered, “Stay quiet.”

As soon as she was far enough away, he heaved an exasperated sigh and laid down, putting one of his front paws over his eyes. He knew he had no choice but to try and trust her. It was either that or trying to make his way to Gautier by himself, and that seemed utterly hopeless. He barely knew how to fend for himself as a human, let alone as a dog. Hopefully they could get to Fraldarius, and Lord Rodrigue would help him. It would be worth Felix’s endless teasing if he could be with someone he trusted, rather than a random mercenary woman.

He must have dozed off at some point, because when he opened his eyes again it was starting to get dark and the wagon had stopped moving. Byleth came back and whispered, “You’re awake. Good. I’ll bring you back some food in a moment. We’ve reached the edge of Gloucester territory. The plan is to slip out of camp as soon as everyone but those on watch have fallen asleep. Then we’ll sleep once we’re far enough away from here.”

“Why?” he asked in a quiet tone, “Why don’t we just go now?”

“Because I’m trying to keep this as quiet as possible,” she explained with a sharp look, “I value my father’s men, and I would prefer it if they didn’t get their throats cut like the last men who came in contact with you.”

He lowered his head without giving a reply, and that damned whining noise happened again as she walked away. She didn’t need to remind him of that. He was willing to bet that those men’s faces as they died would be in his nightmares for the rest of his life. He worried again about dragging Felix and his family into this mess, but he tried to rationalize that killing off a troop of fifteen mediocre mercenaries was slightly different from assassinating a powerful noble family with battalions of knights to guard them.

The issue was that he and Byleth had to _get there_ , first. It was originally supposed to take him five days to get back to Gautier on horseback, so he figured it would take at least double that to get to Fraldarius on foot. Though they had already reached the edge of Gloucester territory, so he estimated it would be at least eight agonizing days of insecurity until he could get to Felix. His chest felt tight and his breathing became shallow just at the thought of it.

He flinched back at the sound of footsteps, though relaxed when Byleth appeared again. She knelt down to drop a pouch of dried meat in front of him. “Here,” she whispered as she sat back on her heels, “Do you think you can eat it on your own?” 

He hoped his glare was sufficient as a dog. Her neutral features told him that it was not.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad earlier,” she whispered as he ducked his face into the pouch in an attempt to get a piece of the jerky. “I’m not the best with people, and being worried about all of this isn’t really helping.” She let out a little sigh and added, “Anyway… I’m sorry.”

He huffed in frustration as he struggled to get the meat out of the damn bag. Byleth reached over after a moment of watching him struggle to pick it up. She reached inside the bag and then put a few pieces on the floor in front of him before turning away. He was grateful she wasn’t looking as he tried to figure out the mechanics of how to make eating work without fingers. 

Once he had eaten a few pieces he whispered, “I’m used to it.”

She turned back toward him, and even though it was dark he could see her softened features. She quietly asked, “Used to what?”

“People being blunt,” he explained, “My friend Felix is a bit like you. He’s always curt when he speaks, and he doesn’t beat around the bush when there’s a problem.”

She hummed in acknowledgement, and he heard a soft thud as she laid her head back against a crate. “I always thought nobles were more like you, with the flowery language and smooth talking. At least, that’s every noble I’ve come in contact with.”

“Most of them are,” he huffed in annoyance, “it’s all about propriety and all of that bullshit. Really, they just think they’re better than commoners, even though they aren’t.”

She huffed a heavy breath out of her nose and retorted, “And you don’t?”

He dropped back to the floor and put his head between his front paws. He quietly confessed, “I thought I wasn’t like that.”

“Going to taverns to fuck the local girls doesn’t make you any different from the nobles in their fine houses who drag their whores to them,” she crassly explained in a neutral tone. “Slumming it in a small inn doesn’t make you better.”

“You have no idea what it’s like to be me,” he angrily spat as he moved to standing, “so don’t pretend like you do.”

“Fine,” she answered in the same infuriatingly neutral tone. He fell back to the floor with a huff and Byleth put a few more pieces of dried meat in front of him. They each chewed on some jerky in silence for a while, and then quietly waited until it was time to leave.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Byleth’s father whispered as he pulled her into a rough embrace. They had silently weaved through the tents around the mercenary group’s little caravan, only being seen by people Jeralt and Byleth trusted. They stood on the edge of camp now, as Byleth said her final goodbyes. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks. You’ll meet us in Enbarr as soon as you get him to Fraldarius, right?” 

“I’ll send word if the plan changes,” she agreed with a sharp nod of her head.

“Then go,” he gruffly said, “and come back safe.” He laid a hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair slightly as he whispered, “I love you, Kid.”

“I know,” she nodded with the slightest of smiles, “I’ll see you in a few weeks.” She turned with a short wave and Sylvain followed closely after her as they continued on down the trail toward Kingdom territory. 

They walked in silence for a long time, guided only by the light of the moon that illuminated their path. He was genuinely impressed by how well he could see in the dark as a dog. He wasn’t even aware that dogs could see this well at night. He supposed he could chalk it up to the things you learn when someone turns you into a _freaking_ dog. 

As he watched Byleth’s somewhat slumped shoulders walking in front of him, he idly wondered how she was doing. He had gotten a long nap while they were in the wagon, but he wondered whether she had slept at all. She mentioned having been stabbed the night before, so he figured that meant she needed the rest, but he didn’t want to say anything. 

After a while Byleth veered off the path and ducked into the underbrush. When they reached a small gap in the trees, she set down her large pack and pulled out a bedroll. “I didn’t bring one for you,” she whispered, “because… well…”

“I’ll be fine,” he huffed as he dropped to the ground a few feet away from her bedroll. His thick fur did a relatively good job at keeping him warm, though they would see how far that went. It was the nearly the Ethereal Moon, so it would only get colder the closer they got to Fraldarius. 

The only use he could truly see for a bedroll was padding, and even then they didn’t truly make much difference. Besides, being on foot meant that Byleth was carrying all of their supplies. If it was a choice between an extra bedroll and making sure they had enough food and medical supplies, even he knew he’d be stupid for wanting the bedroll.

She whispered a quiet goodnight as she laid down to sleep, and he followed suit.

….

“Hey,” someone whispered as they nudged him. He blinked open his eyes and yawned, looking around in confusion for a moment. His eyes landed on Byleth, and all of the events from yesterday came roaring back.

Right. He was a dog, stuck with a random mercenary woman, and he was currently being hunted by some group that was willing to kill anyone who came in contact with him. Great.

“We should get moving,” Byleth whispered as she began rolling up her bedroll. The sun was barely rising, the sky only lit up with the early dawn light. It had to have only been a few hours since they stopped here.

“Don’t you sleep?” he whined as he put a paw over his eyes.

“When I don’t have an employer who’s being hunted down,” she retorted in that same neutral tone, “I suppose I’ll have to sleep later.” He huffed a breath, but didn’t respond. She did have a valid point there. He lazily watched her as she pulled out a hooded cloak and then stuffed the bedroll into her pack. 

She pulled the cloak on and covered her hair with the hood, likely due to the fact that Jerry’s guy had described her as “that blue-haired bitch”. Blue hair wasn’t extremely common in Fodlan, so it made sense that she would try to hide it. As she walked through the underbrush back to the road, she said, “I think it’s safer if you don’t talk around other people. We don’t know if the group that is hunting you will have people posted along our route. They’ll be expecting you to try and travel home.”

“Fine,” he agreed, though somewhat begrudgingly. It was sort of ironic that two days ago he was dreading going home to pick some random woman to marry, and now he was running for his life while having to act like some sort of lapdog. The goddess was a cruel minx if you asked him.

“I’ll have to think of a name for you,” Byleth hummed in a soft tone. He looked up at her as they walked, and caught himself admiring her features in the early morning light before he shook himself out of it. This wasn’t some random tavern, and he wasn’t looking for an easy lay. He needed to get his head out of the clouds. 

She looked down at him and with a wry smirk said, “I could just call you Dog?”

“I see the goddess blessed you with beauty, not creativity,” he teased with a roll of his eyes.

“I’ve never had to name anything before,” she huffed with a cute pouting of her lips, “Traveling as a mercenary isn’t really the ideal situation for having a pet.” She was quiet for a moment until she asked, “Have you ever had a dog?” 

“We had hunting dogs like most of the nobility of the Kingdom do, but I never had one that was my own,” he answered. Perhaps having a dog would have made his childhood less… lonely. Though lonely probably wasn’t the correct word to describe his childhood. Whenever he got to go and visit his friends, things were great. When they left… 

Well… that was another story entirely.

“Does that upset you?” she asked, her doe eyes wide with curiosity.

“No,” he scoffed, “why would it?”

“I don’t know,” she hummed, “your tail went down and your ears moved back a bit. I’ve noticed that happens when you’re upset.”

He whipped his head to look up at her, but she was staring straight ahead with her same blank features. Almost like a reflex from the vulnerability of the situation, the line slipped from his mouth before he could think about it. “You’ve been watching me that closely, huh? Like what you see?”

“I don’t think that line works quite as well when you’re a dog,” she scoffed with a slight shake of her head.

“Right,” he chuckled awkwardly and stared at the ground for a moment. _Idiot._

“What about…” she hummed softly as she paused, “Copper? Or Rusty?” He turned his head back toward her and saw she was looking at him again. She tilted her head a bit, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “What do you think? Those kind of fit with your fur color, right?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he grumbled, no longer enjoying their conversation, “It won’t matter once I get to Fraldarius.”

“You’re right,” she nodded. With a curious tone she asked, “What will your best friend Felix have to say about all of this?”

“Probably the same thing you did,” he snapped, he could feel the fur on his shoulders rising the more he got worked up, “That it’s all my fault for being an insatiable bastard.”

She frowned slightly and replied, “That doesn’t sound like a best friend.”

“Oh yeah?” he scoffed, “And what does a best friend sound like?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, looking away, “I’ve never had one before.” Not for the first time since he’d met her, he wondered who the hell this chick was. 

“You’ve never had a friend before?” he incredulously asked, “Seriously?”

She shrugged her shoulders as a slight frown pulled at her lips. “I was raised in the mercenary troupe. We’ve always traveled from job to job, so there were never any opportunities to make friends. I’ve never really minded it, but I always assumed friends would be… I don’t know? Nicer?”

“Wait,” he stopped for a moment, and she turned back to look at him, “You were raised by a mercenary troupe? What? Is your mother a mercenary, as well?” It explained the fact that she was as skilled as she was at such a young age. He wagered she had to be about as old as he was. It also explained her comment yesterday about not being great with people. Being raised by brute mercenaries wasn’t a great way to learn people skills.

She turned back around and started walking again, and he had to jog a bit to catch up with her fast pace. “My mother died giving birth to me,” she quietly explained, the slightest hint of sadness in her tone, “Jeralt raised me on his own as we traveled.”

“Why?” he asked in a puzzled tone, “Why not stop traveling? Why raise you in a mercenary troupe? That hardly seems like an ideal situation to raise a child in.”

“It was either that or give me up,” she argued, her eyes becoming narrow again, “He didn’t have a choice. We have no other family, and he didn’t want to give away the only piece of my mother that he still had. Sometimes people can’t run home to daddy so he can fix their problems.”

“Run home to daddy?” he barked with a harsh laugh, “That’s what you think I’m doing? My father won’t give a damn about any of this besides the fact that—” he cut himself off with a growl. “You know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you. You’re just in this for the money. You’re going to take me to Fraldarius and then I’m never going to have to see you again.”

“You know,” she grumbled with a shake of her head, “you’re a real asshole.” She picked up her already fast pace and he let her walk ahead of him, not interested in walking beside her anymore.

He glared at her back for a while as they walked in tense silence. What the hell was it with this girl? She asked a million questions, but never seemed satisfied with his answers. She acted like he was some stuck-up noble guy who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth. If only she fucking knew. Not that he owed her any sort of explanation. She doesn’t actually care about him. She was going to drop him off in Fraldarius, take whatever gold she was given, and go. She said from the very beginning that her troop needed the funds. If anything, she was lucky he basically fell in her lap like this.

They were making good time. Or, at least he thought they were, because just before sunset they could see the major town near Gloucester Mansion in the distance. Byleth set a brutal pace, but if it got him to Fraldarius faster, he wouldn’t complain. They had walked in mostly silence for the whole day, their long stretches of walking only broken up by stops to eat and the anxiety-filled moments when they came across other travelers. They were left alone, appearing as a lone woman and her dog to outsiders. Gratefully, they hadn’t run into any trouble. 

She led him into a small clearing just before sunset, just as she had the night before, and began to start a fire. Once she got it burning, she turned to him and curtly said, “Stay here. I’ll be back.” 

“Where are you—” he cut off with an exasperated groan as she looped her bow over her shoulder and ran into the trees. He looked after her for a moment, and then, reluctantly trusting she would come back, decided to go and plop down near the fire. 

Fire had always been something that soothed him when he was young. He couldn’t explain it, but staring into one always filled him with a sense of peace. Learning the basics of reason magic had been almost fun while he was studying under Professor Hanneman at the Officer’s Academy, not that he would ever say anything like that out loud. At night, when he had a nightmare or just couldn’t sleep, he would conjure a fire spell to his palm so he could look into the flames in an attempt to calm down. 

The sun had set when he heard the cries of a flock of some sort of bird not far from where he was. He stood up, looking into the trees warily. All of his hair stood on end as he worried that perhaps someone was coming for him. He could hear footsteps coming toward him, and he backed away slowly until Byleth walked into the clearing with a dead pheasant in her hand.

“Dinner,” she announced with her usual lack of bravado, before sitting on a stone on the other side of the fire to begin plucking and preparing it. 

He watched her work for a few minutes, confused even as he admired the ease with which she prepared the pheasant. “I thought you packed food?” he suspiciously asked, eyeing her pack on the ground near her bedroll.

“It’s safer to hunt when you’re able,” she explained, never taking her eyes off her work, “You never know what might happen, and you never want to run out of food. Especially the dried meat, which will store for a while.”

“Couldn’t you just stop in a nearby town and buy more?” 

She looked up at him then, and tilted her head to the side in a way that looked thoughtful. “I’m sure _you_ could under normal circumstances,” she responded in an even tone, “though I don’t have much gold on me, right now.”

 _Speaking of that…_ “You kept saying your troupe needed gold earlier. I thought the Blade Breaker’s crew was renowned throughout Fodlan? Wouldn’t that mean you guys get a lot of jobs?”

She evenly responded, “Sure, we get offered lots of jobs, but my father and I don’t take cutthroat ones. That takes out a lot of the high-paying gigs. Our last two jobs we’ve fulfilled for room and board only, like the innkeeper where we just came from.”

“The innkeeper? The pudgy guy?” he asked, raising his head to look over at her.

“Yeah,” she put the prepared pheasant over the fire to cook and stood up, “I’ll be right back. There’s a stream not far from here, so I’m going to wash up.”

“You’re just going to leave me here?” he tried to keep his tone even, but it didn’t work. Anxiety bled into his tone as his eyes darted around the area. 

She looked back at him and sighed, “Well, come on then.” She waved her hand and walked off into the trees again. He followed behind her—marveling again at how well he could see even at this time of night—until he heard what they were looking for. Soon after, they reached a break in the trees, and he took in the scenery before him.

It was a beautiful rocky outcropping, with a decently sized stream that he supposed ran into the Bresis River—which made its way through the canyon that they would be traversing through soon to cross the border into the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. There was a small portion where the water descended from a small waterfall, but Byleth was walking toward the area where it emptied and the water was much calmer. 

She nodded her head upstream and said, “Feel free to grab a drink up there. I already filled the water pouches.” She patted the pouches attached to her belt like he needed proof. “I’ll be right here.”

He watched her squat down and begin cleaning off her bloody hands from the preparing of the pheasant, before doing as she instructed and climbing up the rocks to head upstream a little bit. He took a short drink, enjoying the cold water on his tongue, and then laid down to listen to the stream. It was quite relaxing in this little area, especially with no one coming to interrupt him like there usually was when he traveled. 

After a few minutes of peace, he stood up and started climbing back down toward Byleth, only to freeze in his tracks. Byleth was sitting at the side of the river, mostly disrobed, unraveling the bandages that covered her waist. From here, he could just hear the faint hiss as she bent down to try and clean out the stab wound, just beneath her ribs on her left side. As he walked closer, he could see that someone had stitched up the wound, but the stitching was coming loose, probably from her overexerting herself during their travel today.

“You’re hurt,” he called, without really thinking.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she answered in her usual neutral tone, “I’ve had far worse.” 

He moved to sit at the water’s edge beside her and softly said, “You’re hurt… because of me.” 

She pursed her lips, but didn’t respond. She stood and began removing the rest of her clothing, laying it beside her wet shirt on the ground. He made a very undignified sound and turned away, making her snort softly in amusement. He heard the water splash slightly as she trudged in. She called, “Sorry. If I’d have known it was going to make you uncomfortable, I would have warned you.”

“You just…” his voice squeaked slightly before he cleared his throat and began again in a sterner tone, “You just undressed like it was nothing?!”

“I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” she reasoned, not incorrectly… but still, “Sorry. I guess I didn’t think you’d have a problem.”

“Why don’t you have a problem?” he squeaked again. Damn him! Damn the fact that he was a fucking dog right now, when there was a beautiful woman naked in the stream _right there_!

“I was raised a mercenary,” she explained in that damned neutral tone of hers, like she was talking about the weather and not her tendency to not care that she was NAKED right in front of him, “This has been most of my life, noble boy.”

“I’m not a boy,” he argued.

“Right… noble dog,” she teased, “Sorry.”

He turned to glare at her, and immediately regretted it. He froze, staring as she bent down to rinse her long blue hair in the stream. He couldn't help thinking that this moment was like something out of one of Ashe's novels, except he was a dog, so there couldn't be any explicit content that would make the archer blush red as a tomato. She looked up, and when she caught him staring, turned slightly away. What he saw made his blood run cold. 

Scars littered her pale skin, glowing faintly silver in the moonlight. They were everywhere along her muscular back and down her strong arms, magnified by the water and the moonlight. He’d seen some of the knights that had scars like that, but he couldn’t help feeling they looked so out of place on someone as beautiful as she was.

“Are you alright?” she asked, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

“I’ve… never seen so many scars on someone our age before,” he stammered before turning away again.

“Really?” she hummed, “Well, I have been fighting for a long time.” She was quiet for a moment before asking, “I thought the Kingdom started you with weapons fairly young?”

“They do,” he grumbled, sitting down with a huff, “but they aren’t sending you into battle. You start with training weapons, master the necessary techniques, and then you’re eventually knighted. Glenn Fraldarius was the youngest to be knighted in quite some time, and he was fifteen. That’s when he started going into actual skirmishes. Even then, I thought I’d never want to do that when I was that young.”

He’d pretended to fumble in his lance techniques until he was seventeen, and thus only had to participate in a few skirmished before his year at the Officer’s Academy. Felix and his father were always on his case about not training enough, but he figured he had the rest of his life to fight at the border with the Lance of Ruin in hand. What were a few years of slacking off compared to protecting his people for the rest of his life? Or rather, protecting his people until his future heirs were old enough to do it for him.

“Huh…” she shrugged, “I started fighting when I was about twelve.”

“Twelve?!” he whipped around to look at her incredulously, and then quickly remembered why he had turned around. She squeezed the excess water out of her hair and began to walk out of the water, stooping down to wrap her cloak around herself. 

“Yeah. I was begging my father to let me start earlier, but that’s when he finally let me fight with the rest of the troupe.”

“You _begged_ him?”

She turned to stare at him with that piercing gaze of hers again and asked, “Have you ever been left behind while the only person you cared about charged into battle?”

“Well… no… but—”

“But nothing,” she interrupted his stammering. “Not knowing what’s happening—being scared that something could happen to them and you wouldn’t be able to help—it’s the worst feeling in the world,” she explained as she picked up her wet things and strapped her sword belt to her waist. “I’ve worked to become stronger every day of my life, because I never want there to come a day where my skills aren’t enough to protect someone I care about.”

She turned to look at him, lifting her eyebrow like she expected some sort of rebuttal. Unfortunately, he found himself speechless for the second time, in as many days. She watched him for a moment before turning back toward their camp and saying, “We should go and check on the pheasant.”

He watched her stitch up her own wound as they waited for the pheasant to finish cooking. Well… watching is a strong word for what he was doing. Really, he cast furtive glances her way before becoming too squeamish and looking back at the fire.

Every battle that he’d ever been in, there had been plenty of healers and elixirs to go around. He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever seen someone have to crudely stitch themselves up like Byleth currently was. She hissed every once and a while, the firm muscles of her abdomen flexing as she tried to finish as steadily as she could. When she was finally done, she wrapped herself back up with fresh bandages and finished redressing, leaving her washed clothes by the fire to dry.

“Thank you,” he eventually whispered it into the silence between them, and her blue eyes drifted over to meet his. “I just realized… I never even said thank you for protecting me from Kronya the other night.” He dropped his head between his paws and admitted, “You’re right, I am an asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have called you that,” she sighed, and leaned back on her arms to stare up at the sky. The firelight danced across her features, and he found himself admiring her beauty again without really meaning to. “You and I have lived very different lives. I don’t know what yours was like, and you don’t know what mine was like. I’ve been biased against you from the moment you tried to pick me up at the tavern, purely because you’re a noble and that’s not fair to you.”

She looked back down at him and said, “So I’m sorry I said what I did. And you’re welcome… for saving your noble ass.” She smirked slightly, a bit of teasing in her gaze, but mostly it felt genuine.

“That’s the reason you rejected me?” he asked incredulously, “Because I’m a noble?”

She furrowed her brow slightly and hesitantly said, “Yes?”

“So, you’re saying… if I had walked into that tavern as a commoner—dressed in plain clothes with no name and no Crest—you might have given me a shot?” He was watching her carefully as she tilted her head to her fist and stared into the fire.

“I don’t know,” she mused, “your lines weren’t very creative.” He barked an incredulous laugh and she smirked over at him. “But… you weren’t bad looking…” she put her hands up defensively when he snickered, “…objectively speaking, of course. So maybe? Who knows?”

“You are,” he paused and shook his head as he tried to think of what he wanted to say, “unlike any person I have ever met.”

“I doubt it,” she shrugged. “There are a lot of people like me. I’m sure some of the girls you flirted with were like me, too.”

“No,” he assured her with a serious tone, “they were nothing like you. Women only see my name and my Crest when they look at me. Hell, that’s all anyone sees when they look at me.”

“Have you shown them anything else?” she asked just as seriously.

“What do you mean?” he asked, unable to keep the defensiveness from his tone.

“You walked into that small tavern all fake smiles and finery,” she accused with that “I see through you” stare, “The first thing you did was walk up to the bar and order the most expensive drink right beside me—the mercenary drinking the cheapest ale they had because I couldn’t afford anything else.”

Suddenly he couldn’t meet her gaze anymore, and he instead turned to the fire. “You spat out a line I’m sure you’ve used a million times, and then expected me to just swoon. Am I wrong?” He didn’t respond, just continued to stare into the fire.

“You thought I would only see you for your Crest and your name, and I thought you would only see me as an easy lay,” she hummed. He saw her shrug from the corner of his eye before he tucked his head between his paws, facing away from her. “One thing is for sure… neither of us thought we’d be where we are now.” 

A tense silence hung over them. He looked over when he heard her stand, and watched as she pulled the pheasant from where it had been cooking above the fire. She cut into it with her dagger, and hummed quietly. “Come here,” she called with a nod of her head. He walked over hesitantly as she cut off and blew on a piece of the pheasant. She warned, “This isn’t going to be your yummy noble food, but it’s going to keep your stomach full for a while.” 

She held up the piece of meat and he quirked his head to the side. “You’re expecting me to eat it from your hand?”

“It’s either that or off the dirt,” she offered. He huffed and stepped forward, opening his mouth as she dropped it in. He stepped back, chewing it with a slight grimace. She was right, it was not yummy noble food. She chuckled breathily and then stuck a piece in her mouth. 

  
They ate like that until they had finished off the pheasant. He wasn’t sure whether it was the meat, or the fatigue from their long day, but there was a pleasant hum in his mind as he stared unseeing at the pile of bones left over from the pheasant. Slowly his mind became blank and blank and blank and…

He shut his eyes with a small sigh, and dozed off. 

A second later, Byleth was frantically calling his name.

He opened his eyes and turned to look up at her, noticing that her eyes were wide and her lips were slightly parted. “What’s wrong?” he asked. He tried to step toward her, and looked down to see the bones from the pheasant were mangled beneath his feet.

“Sylvain?” she hesitantly asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yes…?” he drew out the word, confused by her obvious unease.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for a few minutes now…” her voice wavered, “You started panting and launched yourself at the bones. And when you looked up… your eyes… they…” she put a hand to her forehead, “…they looked different.”

Icy dread washed through him as he stared up at her. “Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, “Your pupils were huge, and when you looked at me…” she trailed off with a bite of her lower lip. She shuffled a little bit closer to him and whispered, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I…” he paused and looked down at the bones, observing the obvious teeth marks. His body started to tremble slightly as he stammered, “I… I don’t know… I don’t remember any of that. I thought I fell asleep or something.” He stepped back from the bones on the ground, watching them warily, fearing that whatever just happened might happen again. He whispered, “I don’t know what just happened.” 

She walked on her knees until she was right beside him, and then reached out to pat his back, leaving her hand there as she leaned down to look him in the eye. He froze in surprise for a moment, but relaxed slightly as she whispered, “I’m going to help you figure this out. I promise.” 

He stared up at her, a mixture of confusion and awe mixing in his chest at the amount of sincerity in her voice. The girl that he tried to pick up in a tavern, was now risking everything to try and get him to people who could try and fix him. She was nothing like he expected, and suddenly he felt guilty for the fact that he was _exactly_ what she thought he was. He was a nobleman in his finery, nothing but pretty words and pick up lines… But now he was stuck as a dog, wholly relying on her to get him somewhere safe. How had his life taken such a weird turn?

He walked over to lay down near the fire, ignoring the feeling of her eyes on him. He tucked his head to the side, and pretended to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been super fun to write, and it's taken permanent residence in my brain. Let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> Just as a side note, I'm thinking of setting up a day for weekly updates. I'm thinking Sunday maybe, but I'm not sure yet. Either way, updates should be fairly regular with this story. Thanks for reading the first two chapters!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our protagonist's stroke of luck soon turns sour. 
> 
> CW: Mild descriptions of violence and gore.

They had been walking in companionable silence for most of the morning, trying to keep their pace as brisk as possible as they continued toward the Kingdom’s border. The stillness was broken when Byleth lightly cleared her throat.

“Hey… I’ve been thinking,” she hesitantly started, “and I think you should always stay by me.”

“What? Afraid you’ll miss me?” He was trying to tease, but it was strained. He had a feeling he knew where this conversation was going, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to talk about it just yet. She stopped to squat do in front of him, and he was surprised by the concern written across her features. He could plainly see it in the furrow of her brow, the frown on her lips, and the tension of her jaw. It would almost be nice to have someone be that concerned for him, if it wasn’t because he had acted like an actual dog last night and had no memory of it. Honestly, it was more stressful than relieving at the moment.

“I just…” she reached out a hand like she might touch him, but then pulled back, “I don’t want whatever happened last night to happen when you aren’t next to me. I don’t want you to wander off and get lost or something.”

“So, you’re afraid you won’t get paid if you lose your client?” he bitterly asked, turning his face away from her open concern. He couldn’t handle the amount of care in her eyes right now, he really couldn’t.

She let out a huff of frustration, and it sounded like she might argue some more, but she suddenly stood up straight and whispered, “quiet”.

He could hear it too. Well… really, he smelled the horses before he heard it thanks to his heightened sense of smell, which was really disgusting at certain points and honestly one of the things he was most eager to get rid of when he was hopefully turned back to normal. There was a wagon coming up behind them. Byleth started walking, and he trailed along behind her as they moved all the way to the side of the road—just like they did every other time they came across other travelers. The sound of the wheels of the wagon and horse’s hooves against the dirt of the road became louder and louder, until it stopped when it was beside them. Byleth tensed, he could see her fingers twitching toward the sword on her hip as she turned toward the wagon, only to relax slightly when she took in its occupants.

“Hello there!” an older gentleman called from the driver’s seat as he held the reins of the two horses pulling the wagon. Sylvain would wager he was a merchant of some sort by his clothing. They weren’t made of expensive fabrics, like he or another noble would wear, but not plainclothes like you would see on a lower income commoner. “Where are ya headed?” A younger man sat beside him, probably in his early twenties, and he was openly gawking at Byleth.

“My dog and I are heading to Fraldarius territory to meet up with my father,” Byleth explained in what he suspected was her attempt at a “I’m just a damsel, not someone who could easily kick your ass” tone. 

It seemed to work. The old man grinned and jovially called, “Why don’t ya hop in, then? We’re going that way, too. It’d certainly be a lot faster than you walkin’, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t have any gold to offer you?” Byleth suspiciously replied, her eyes cataloging the crates of seeds and food supplies on the simple flatbed cart. He wondered what she was thinking.

“Whelp, my boy here,” the older man patted the young man’s shoulder as the “boy” in question bowed his head in obvious embarrassment, “was just saying that a pretty young thing like yourself shouldn’t have to walk. I happen to agree with him. Besides, I see you’ve got a fancy sword there. I’ll consider your “protection” payment enough. We’ve got a wagon full of goods to take to market near Galatea Estate, and you can never be too careful.” He winked good-naturedly, though his tone held something deeper that put Sylvain on edge. 

There was always the danger of bandits and such while traveling, that was why his father had sent him with a small group of Gautier knights in the first place. Too bad he was an idiot and struck out on his own, or he probably wouldn’t even be in this mess.

Byleth nodded firmly and asked, “Is it alright if my dog rides with me?”

The older man looked down at him and asked, “Is he trained?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he sat down and tried his best impression of a “good dog” face. Byleth got down on one knee and he turned to look at her in question. She reached out a hand and scratched behind one of his floppy ears and… _goddess_ did it feel good.

Shit… he was panting now.

“He’ll be good,” Byleth called back with a hint of amusement in her tone, “I promise.”

Sylvain looked back up at the old man, who seemed to contemplate it for a moment before shrugging. “Why not? Hop in the back.” 

They walked around to the back and she stooped down to pick him up. He couldn’t help the undignified yelp that escaped him as she grabbed him around the middle and tossed him up onto the back of the flatbed wagon. He scrambled to his feet to watch her climb up, but stopped when it became obvious that someone had already captured her attention.

“I’m sorry about my father,” the young man from earlier said, holding out his hand to Byleth, “I’m Jeremiah Duey.” He wasn’t… terrible looking. Fair hair and skin, bland features, though Sylvain couldn’t help thinking that he had rather large ears for the size of his head. He towered over Byleth, reminding him how small she actually was, even if she was obviously strong and skilled. 

Also… he was a dog at the moment. That meant she towered over him all the time.

Byleth threw her pack into the back of the wagon before responding, “My name is Sitri,” she took Jeremiah’s hand in her own and shook it, “…and that’s my dog, Rusty.” It appeared they had decided to go with Rusty. He wondered where she got Sitri from, because it was certainly more creative than Rusty. He flopped down onto his stomach with a heavy breath out of his nose. “I really appreciate you letting us ride with you.”

“It’s no trouble…” Jeremiah looked down at their hands, which happened to still be intertwined from their handshake, and Sylvain could clearly see the man’s blush. Seriously? What was he? A blushing teenager? He stammered, “…especially not for someone as pretty as yourself.” _Smooth… real smooth._

Byleth chuckled in that breathy way she sometimes does and took her hand back with a coy smile. “That’s awfully sweet of you. Thank you.” 

“Allow me to help you into the wagon,” Jeremiah offered in an eager tone.

“Oh…” Byleth assured, “I can do it myself.”

“Please, I insist.” Jeremiah grabbed both sides of her waist and only grunted slightly as he lifted her up to sit on the back of the wagon. “Holler if you need anything.” He sent Byleth a goofy grin and a small wave before running back around to the front of the wagon. 

Byleth swept her legs up into the wagon and scooted over to sit against a crate of what looked like bags of seed or something similar to that. She looked over at him with a slight smile. Once the wagon had started moving, he walked over to drop down beside her and quietly grumbled, “Really?”

“Shhh… Rusty,” she cooed playfully with extra emphasis on the stupid dog name she’d assigned him, “we wouldn’t want to bother our benefactors, now would we?” He pushed himself up to sitting and turned to give her an unamused look, but she met his harsh gaze with a playful smirk.

She reached out and scratched that same spot behind his ear and he found he couldn’t help the fact that he started panting as his eyes drifted shut. He could even feel his tail wagging side to side. He snapped himself out of it and glared at her, but she just chuckled and continued looking at him with obvious amusement. 

He put his face closer to her ear and grumbled, “I think you’re having a bit too much fun.”

She disguised her whispering to him as a hug, burying her face in the fur near his ear as she whispered, “It’s worth it if it gets us to Fraldarius faster, right? I have to act like you are my dog,” she scratched down his sides, which felt heavenly with how itchy his fur made him feel, “and this is what people do with their dogs.”

Well… if she was going to play it like that. “You can pet me all you want, baby,” he purred low in her ear, “I don’t mind.” She snorted in amusement and rolled her eyes. “Or would you prefer _Jeremiah_? I’m sure he’d let you pet him, too.”

“He’s sweet,” she whispered with a quick glance over toward the other occupants of the wagon to make sure they weren’t paying attention.

“So, that’s your type?” he teased, “Stuttering and bashful?”

“Genuine,” she corrected with a soft smile, “If I had a type, it would be those that are genuine.”

His chest tightened for some reason, and he backed away slightly before curling up and shutting his eyes like he was going to take a nap. Really, he just found that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Byleth began to hum softly, something that wasn’t new to him after the last two days of traveling together, and he let the sound drift over him as he relaxed and dozed off.

He woke up what must have been a few hours later. He stood and saw that the canyon that led to Galatea territory off in the distance. This wagon ride had probably saved them about a day and a half of walking, so he said a mental ‘thank you’ to Jeremiah and his father. 

He was almost in Kingdom territory. He was almost home.

He glanced over to Byleth, who was dozing as she sat against the crates. Her head was tilted to the side in a way that made _his_ neck ache, and her lips were parted slightly so he could faintly hear the sound of her breathing. He reached a paw up to lightly nudge her and she was immediately alert, her hand on the hilt of her sword. He nodded his head toward the front of the wagon and she quickly got up on her knees to look at the town they were now entering. 

She pulled her pack closer to them and leaned over to whisper, “This is where we need to be careful. If I was part of the group that is after you, I’d have people stationed here.” It made sense. This was the last town before the canyon, and this road was the main thoroughfare between the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus and the Alliance.

She pulled up the hood of her cloak and wrapped it around herself more fully, covering up her sword and armor. He nodded minutely in acknowledgement as she moved toward the front of the wagon.

“Ah! You’re awake. You looked exhausted so we didn’t want to disturb ya,” the old man chirped as she got closer to them, “We’ll be getting a room here for the night. If you’d like, you’re more than welcome to hitch a ride with us through the canyon tomorrow.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Byleth responded in a kind tone. 

“I’ll be retiring early,” the old man yawned, “These old bones don’t travel like they used to. I’m sure you kids could find a place to get some grub if you wanted to?”

“Would you…?” Jeremiah asked, a cringe-inducing mixture of nervousness and eagerness in his tone, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I don’t have much gold right now,” Byleth confessed, “And I have plenty of—”

“I was meaning I could buy you dinner,” Jeremiah corrected with a faint blush.

“Oh…” Byleth hesitated and looked back at him, but he turned away and laid down to look out the back of the cart, “I’d hate to leave Rusty all alone…”

Jeremiah offered, “We could ask if the tavern allows dogs? Or we could eat something outside?” _Damn, the poor dude was desperate._

He was looking out the back of the wagon, idly looking over the shops and stalls in effort to tune out the conversation going on behind him. Suddenly, his heart stopped when his eyes landed on a group of mercenaries that looked hauntingly familiar—though the man in the white half mask was noticeably missing. He jerked to standing and walked over to stand beside Byleth, pawing at her leg. She turned to look at him and he opened his mouth to talk before realizing that the old man and Jeremiah would hear him. He made that stupid whining noise instead and nodded his head toward where the mercenaries were standing.

She discreetly looked in the direction he had indicated, and her eyes widened ever so slightly as she tugged at the hood of her cloak and motioned him to stand behind the crates. “Is he okay?” Jeremiah asked with a note of concern.

“I think he might need to… you know… do his business,” she said in an awkward tone, “Why don’t I take him for a little walk and I’ll try to find you a bit later?” 

“Alright,” Jeremiah murmured in obvious disappointment, “I’ll be at the tavern if you want to join me later.” 

The old man pulled the wagon near the stables and Byleth called, “Come on, Rusty!” as she quickly pulled on her pack and jumped down. He hopped off and ran after her as she walked further into town, further away from the mercenaries. Her head was back on a swivel, but she kept her hood pulled up. He tried to stay as close as possible as they walked toward the other edge of town, and out into the trees.

“What are we going to do?” he anxiously whispered.

“Let me think,” she whispered back, still taking in their surroundings with sharp eyes. After a few minutes of walking, they stopped near a tree and she sank down against it. He continued pacing, unable to stop moving now that adrenaline and fear had sparked within him.

“Traveling the canyon at night seems like asking for trouble,” she murmured, whether she was talking to him or herself he wasn’t completely sure, “and riding in the wagon gets us to Fraldarius faster. But we don’t know what they know about me besides my hair color, and we don’t know if they would recognize you.” He stopped to look at her, and she tilted her head to her fist as she furrowed her eyebrows.

“If we look like we’re traveling with merchants, it might be a decent enough cover. I could take off my armor and hide my sword, and we would blend in more.”

“What if they come after us?” he anxiously asked, not liking the idea of her being unarmed and unable to fight.

She stated, “I’ll still have my dagger on me.” Something in her tone told him that she genuinely thought that would be enough. He hadn’t seen her fight yet, but he found himself feeling a weird mixture of fear and curiosity at her confidence in her own skills.

Maybe Felix was rubbing off on him.

Rather suddenly, that odd hazy feeling started to creep into the corners of his mind. Panic flared and he anxiously whimpered, “Byleth…” Her gaze sharpened on his face instantly and she started to move closer to him. He tried to focus on her face as she put her hands on each side of his head. He could see her lips moving, but he couldn’t make out what she was saying as his mind went blank and blank and blank. 

Then, his body suddenly became relaxed as his eyes slipped closed.

  
He felt groggy as he slowly blinked the world back into focus. He tried to move, but there were arms around him. He craned his neck, and his vision was filled with blue. “Byleth?”

“Sylvain,” she sighed his name in a relieved breath as she tightened her hold. 

“What happened?” 

“It happened again,” she murmured into his neck, before quickly letting him go. He found himself missing her embrace as soon as it was gone. 

“What did I do?” he hesitantly asked, not completely sure if he wanted to know the answer.

“Nothing totally strange,” she murmured, while pulling her knees to her chest, “It was just… different. Your eyes and posture changed. You started panting more, and you started sniffing around. You came when I called your name, but…” she trailed off with a bite of her lower lip. He had noticed that she did that when she felt unsure or worried. He wondered what it was she was stopping herself from saying.

“How long?”

“Longer this time,” she replied in a whisper, “maybe ten minutes or so.”

“It’s getting worse,” he shuddered, “Kronya,” Byleth’s eyes took on scary glint when he said the name, “she said that she had promised the client the finished product. She said something about training me.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” her voice quavered with an emotion he couldn’t quite place, “Why would they do this? Who would want to do this to you?!” He realized with startling clarity that the emotion in her voice, was rage. He felt a sudden tightness in his chest, and he wondered whether the tightness was from the immense terror that he was currently feeling at the prospect of these occurrences becoming longer and longer, or the realization that Byleth cared enough to even be angry.

“I don’t know, take your pick. A jilted ex-lover, my brother, someone from Sreng,” he was frantically babbling, the words flowing from his mouth at an increasing volume, “there’s a lot of people who would want to humiliate me. There’s a lot of people who would want to watch as I slowly cease to exist. It’s almost hard to—”

He was shocked into silence when Byleth pulled him into a firm embrace, and only then did he realize he was trembling, his whole body shaking as he hyperventilated. “We need to get you to Fraldarius as soon as possible. That means we need to be on that wagon tomorrow morning.” Her tone was final as she squeezed him tightly and then let go. She stood up, checking their surroundings once more. 

She began walking quickly, and he jaunted after her. “I’ll ask Jeremiah and his father if we can sleep in their wagon. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind having someone guarding their supplies.” She turned her head and sharply said, “You don’t leave my side.” It was an order, and he distantly considered the fact that if she had tried to order him around two days ago this interaction would have gone very differently.

“I won’t,” he promised. He didn’t really want to, anyway.

They walked back into town, and he remained glued to Byleth’s side as she slowly found her way to the tavern. Not unexpectedly, the barkeep quickly told Byleth he wasn’t allowed inside. However, she was able to get Jeremiah’s attention, and the merchant’s son followed them outside.

“You came back,” the poor man beamed as they stepped away from the entrance.

“I did,” Byleth nodded, “Rusty needed a bit of exercise after sitting in the wagon all day.” 

Jeremiah bent down to pat him on the head and he successfully fought off the urge to growl, though his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m not sure he likes me,” Jeremiah nervously chuckled as he drew his hand back.

Byleth pursed her lips and sent him a look, but he ignored it in favor of scratching at an itch on his side with one of his back legs. He really was itchy. _Is this how dogs feel all the time?_ “When I found him, he was being harassed by some complete assholes and I had to get him out of there. I think he’s just hesitant around other people now.” It was a decent lie, lightly based on the truth. In actuality he just wasn’t a fan of the blushing maiden, Jeremiah.

“Poor thing,” Jeremiah pouted and looked down at him, “that’s awful. You’re really kind for helping him, though.” His eyes were practically sparkling as he looked back up at Byleth. He looked at her like she was some sort of hero or something.

_Well… I guess she sort of is._

She didn’t seem overly fond of the look though, if her half-step back and stammered, “It was nothing,” were any indication. Though, there was the faintest flush across her cheeks, so maybe she just didn’t know how to take the compliment. He personally preferred the first option. 

She then asked, “Would you mind if Rusty and I slept in your wagon? I don’t have the gold for a stay at the inn, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to have someone guarding your supplies.”

“We’ve already paid someone in the stables to keep an eye out, but I’m sure my father wouldn’t mind,” Jeremiah hesitantly replied, “Though, you could stay with me if you’d like? It would certainly be more comfortable than the wagon.” _That little piece of…_

“I’ll be fine,” Byleth assured with a soft smile, “I have a bedroll in my pack, and I’d hate to leave Rusty all alone. He gets sort of nervous if he’s not with me.”

“That makes sense,” Jeremiah smiled and had the audacity to pat his head again, “especially after all the poor thing has been through. I’ll let my father know. We’ll most likely be leaving at dawn.” He tilted his head in thought for a moment and then said, “Would you like some company? I could buy us a bottle and we could go and find a place to sit and talk?” 

“I’m actually feeling pretty tired,” she yawned while stretching her arms overhead. When Jeremiah looked disappointed, she reached out to place her hand on his upper arm and softly added, “We could talk more during the ride tomorrow, if you’d like?”

“I’d love that,” Jeremiah gushed. He took her hand and brushed his lips over the back of it lightly as he murmured, “Goodnight, Sitri.” She flushed slightly again as she nodded and then quickly turned on her heel to walk away. He sent one last unimpressed look Jeremiah’s way before walking after her.

She was hesitant on their way to the stables, her head on that constant swivel again as she checked around each corner. When they finally made it in, she informed the stable master that she had been hired to look after the Duey family’s goods, and he nodded to give the go ahead with a look of slight suspicion. 

She picked him up and put him into the back of the wagon before hopping up after him. He sat in the corner as she pulled out the bedroll and put it in the tiny space available, pulled out a pouch of dried meat, and unsheathed her sword. She sat down on the bedroll and rested the silver sword across her legs as she pulled out a piece of jerky and held it out for him. 

When he looked at her in question, she whispered, “Just in case they spotted you.”

Warmth spread through his chest until he firmly reminded himself that it was her job to protect him. He was paying her to do this, and she wouldn’t get paid if they got to him. Still… when she motioned for him to sleep above her head, he couldn’t push away that warmth as it spread through him.

….

He woke to the terrifying clash of metal on metal, and leapt to his feet. Byleth was on her knees, pushing against the blade of a swordsman as he tried to cut her down. It appeared they had spotted him, and they had come to collect Kronya’s “prize”.

He foolishly cried out Byleth’s name, too busy panicking at the sight of her in danger to consider the fact that it was a ridiculously stupid idea. The attention of the other fighters was immediately on him. He didn’t know where to look. One was walking along the left side of the wagon, another on the right, and there was still the major issue of the one who was currently fighting Byleth. As he slowly moved backward, strong arms grabbed him from behind and his scream was muffled as the man on the left jumped into the wagon and threw a muzzle over his snout. He tried to wiggle and snap his jaws, but he couldn’t do anything.

In a flash, Byleth pulled her dagger from its sheath and threw it at the man who was working on the strap of the muzzle, stabbing him through the neck. He dropped to the ground with a nauseatingly gurgled cry, knocking over a stack of crates with a loud crash. Sylvain shook the muzzle off and started barking as loudly as he could, hoping to draw attention from someone outside the stables. The horses in the nearby stalls were already adding to the commotion as panicked brays and the sounds of the animals trying to get out of their stalls filled the air.

Byleth overcame the man she was fighting, stabbing him through the chest with a cry of fury, and immediately rounded on the man that was trying to hand him over to his comrade waiting on the right side of the wagon. Byleth threw herself over the side of the wagon, and the man was barely able to raise his sword in time to block her strike. Sylvain couldn’t see her anymore when the man holding him apparently decided to ditch his comrade and jumped down from the back of the wagon.

The man hit the ground running, and started to make his way toward the entrance of the stables. Sylvain wriggled as much as he could, growling and trying to bite the man who held him. He succeeded, biting into the man’s arm, causing him to let out a string of furious curses. His curses came to an abrupt stop as he let out an agonized scream. He fell forward, on top of Sylvain, before he was quickly kicked off of by Byleth. 

Her beautiful features were twisted with rage as she pinned the enemy to the ground with her sword against his throat. Sylvain scrambled to the other side of the aisle, knocking against a stall door in his desire to put distance between himself and the man who had been trying to take him away.

“Who do you work for?!” Byleth growled low in her throat, the blade created a trickle of blood that pooled near the man’s collarbone. The man spit in her face, but the defiance ebbed as she yanked his hair back to further expose his throat. “Give me answers and I’ll let you live.” Sylvain was frozen in shock, watching her try to get answers for _him_. She was doing this for _his_ sake. The emotions that stirred were too conflicting to digest right now.

“I’m sure the boss will come for you now,” the man taunted with a scary grin, “and I doubt even you will have what it takes to stand against him… _Ashen Demon_.” He spat the nickname like it was an insult, and Sylvain wondered why.

“Tell me how to change him back or you’re dead,” she threatened, her eyes cold as ice, “Do you hear me?!” 

The man either didn’t care, or had resigned himself to his fate. “You might as well cut your losses and run, Demon,” the man jeered with a broken rasp of a laugh, “the noble boy’s days as anything other than a lowly mutt are numbered. There’s nothing you can—” his words died as he did. Byleth’s blade carved the life out of him before Sylvain could even finish his breath.  


She climbed off of the man and was by his side in an instant, pulling him into a frantic embrace. Her icy demeanor was gone, replaced by genuine worry. Sylvain found he was thrown off by how quickly she went from terrifying to comforting. “Are you alright?” she frantically whispered. 

“I’m fine,” he breathed, tucking his head into the crook of her neck. He wasn’t, of course he wasn’t, but at least he wasn’t injured.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, “I fell asleep and—” she went silent as running footsteps sounded out at the entrance of the stables, and she quickly shoved him behind her as she raised her sword and took a defensive stance. 

Men in plainclothes ran into the stables, with iron swords held with poor form. He guessed they were stable hands that had been alerted by the ruckus that still filled the air. Byleth dropped her sword to the ground and raised her hands in surrender. She quickly explained, “I was hired to watch over a merchant’s goods. These men came to try and steal from my employer’s wagon, and I took care of them. My employers are staying in the inn. Their last name is Duey.” 

The stable hands looked between themselves for a tense moment before she ordered, “Go and inform the innkeeper.” They immediately ran off, and Byleth picked up her sword, wiping it off on the dead man’s armor before sheathing it and dropping down to her knees beside him again.

“Are you sure you’re okay? They didn’t hurt you?” Her eyes scanned him as she lightly poked and prodded, trying to look for injuries. 

“I’m fine,” he whispered, though he couldn’t keep the tremor from his voice, “Are you okay?” 

“A small cut on my arm, but it’s not a big deal,” she assured him, and seemingly convinced that he was uninjured, immediately got to work.

She rushed back to the wagon and threw the discarded muzzle into her pack. One of the men she killed had fallen on her bedroll, and blood had seeped through it and into the wooden floor as she began pulling it toward the edge of the wagon. He watched her, still frozen in shock, as she pulled the body off and began dragging it toward the entrance of the stables. Next, she pulled the corpse of the man who had grabbed him and piled him on top of the other. 

She was working on the third body when Jeremiah and his father ran out with the innkeeper, all in various states of dress. “By the goddess,” Jeremiah’s father uttered as he saw the pile of bodies, “what happened?”

Byleth straightened and dragged the sleeve of her cloak across her forehead with a tired sigh. “These men tried to steal from the wagon while I was sleeping. I took care of them, though some of the goods were knocked over in the process and may no longer be fit to sell. I’m sorry.” She placed a fist over her heart and bowed. 

Sylvain felt guilty for deceiving them—knowing that Byleth probably did too if the strain at the corner of her eyes was any indication—but it was safer than telling them that he was actually a noble heir that had been turned into a dog that was now being hunted by a group of killer mercenaries—probably so he could be taken to whomever had hired Kronya to change him in the first place.

Jeremiah’s father let out a startled laugh. “Don’t apologize, young one,” he chortled, “It seems you are the only reason I have anything to sell. Where is the man who was supposed to be standing guard?” He turned on the innkeeper as his expression quickly shifted to one of anger. “I was assured that someone would be here on guard when I paid for a stall in your stables.” 

The innkeeper shrank back and frantically promised, “I will get to the bottom of this, and you will be compensated for your lost materials. I’ll have some of my men come out to discard the bodies.” He gave a short bow, then ran back toward the inn.

“You’re hurt!” Jeremiah exclaimed, walking forward to grab Byleth’s arm. 

She shook her head. “This is nothing. I have bandages in my pack. It will be good as new in a few days.”

“Even so,” Jeremiah’s father stepped forward, “you should be compensated for your efforts.”

“Well,” Byleth sighed and looked down at the bodies, “some gold for a new bedroll and cloak would be appreciated. And continued passage on your wagon to Galatea, of course.”

“Done and done,” Jeremiah’s father held out his hand and she shook it firmly. “Would you like to come and have some breakfast with us? We’ll prepare to leave as soon as possible. I see no need to linger here any longer.”

“I’ll stay out here,” Byleth declined with a shake of her head, “Rusty is still pretty shaken up. One of them grabbed him when he tried to defend me, so I want to make sure he’s alright.” 

“We’ll bring you both some breakfast, then?” Jeremiah eagerly offered with a look over his shoulder to his father.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Jeremiah’s father agreed with a kind smile. “We’ll try to be back out here within the hour.” They turned to walk back toward the inn as the stable hands rolled in a wheelbarrow to take care of the bodies. 

Byleth walked toward the back of the stables and sank down to sit against the wall. He moved to lay down beside her, but she pulled him into her lap for another embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into his fur, “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine,” he quietly assured her, though he was still shaking from the shock. “I don’t know how I could…” he trailed off and wiggled out of her hold. What words could he possibly say to convey how thankful he was for everything she was doing? How could he explain the conflict he felt, knowing everything she was risking by being here with him? 

He settled on a pitifully whispered, “Thank you.”

She raised her arm to pet his head, but hissed slightly and dropped it back to her side. He quickly realized it was the one with the torn sleeve, and his eyes widened at the amount of blood seeping through the fabric. “Adrenaline is fading,” she chuckled, and weakly leaned her head against the wall of the stable, “I’ll wrap it in a second. I just need to rest a bit.”

He whimpered unintentionally, though it certainly fit the panic he was coming down from. Byleth moved her uninjured arm to pull him toward her, and he rested his head on her shoulder. He listened to the sound of her even breathing and breathed in the smell of sword oil and something distinctly Byleth as she slowly came down from the adrenaline. When her arm dropped, he stayed where he was, lulled into a sense of comfort by her warmth against him. 

_Shit. Nope. This is… nope._ His eyes shot open as he backed away, but it seemed that Byleth was too out of it to notice his discomfort. She heaved a heavy breath and then pushed herself to standing with a tired groan. “The sooner we get out of this town, the better,” she whispered as she climbed back into the wagon. 

She pulled her dagger from the neck of the man she had killed with it, the action causing a horrifying squelch, and wiped it on his armor before tucking the blade in its sheath on her hip. She then began to drag the body toward the edge of the wagon, and one of the stable hands quickly rushed over with a murmured apology to help her. Another ran over with a bucket and rags and began cleaning up the blood and gore. 

She seemed so… unaffected by all of it—beside the worry that she obviously felt for him, of course. Though he reminded himself that this was how she was raised. He wondered if the fear of being attacked, and a scene of blood and gore were just the backdrop to her life. He felt a conflicting mixture of sympathy and awe at the prospect. He also felt fear, though it was odd to realize it was not for himself, but rather for her. 

As soon as the stable hands were done with their cleaning and left with the bodies, she shucked off her cloak and began working on the latches of her armor as she came to sit beside him again. She pulled off her shirt and set it down beside the bandages, needle, and thread on the floor. She whispered, “I’m sorry I couldn’t get any answers for you. I don’t think he knew much. He was probably too low on the rung to have any real answers. I’d wager his boss is the one who would know how to fix you. I’d go after him, but my first priority is getting you somewhere safe.”

“Aren’t we putting Jeremiah and his father at risk if we stay with them?” he anxiously asked. He wasn’t fond of Jeremiah, but that didn’t mean he wanted him dead. They had been nothing but kind to him and Byleth.

“I’ll protect them as best I can,” she whispered, though he thought he heard a sliver of regret in her voice, “but we need to get you to Fraldarius as soon as possible, and I don’t see any other options. You heard what that man said. We don’t have time to play it safe.” 

She made quick work of cleaning the wound. She poked at it slightly before sighing in something that sounded like resignation and wrapping it with a bandage. Her arm and her waist, both injured because of him. The thought sent a heated feeling through his chest that made him want to rip something apart.

“You should do what he said,” the words slipped from his mouth as he stared at her bandaged arm. He could see her looking at him curiously from the corner of his eye, but he dropped his head so he couldn’t see her reaction to his next words. “You should cut your losses and run. Go back to your father, and maybe you’ll be safer there.”

“What are you talking about?” she scoffed, “I’m getting you to Fraldarius. We had a deal.”

“You don’t get paid if you’re dead,” he spat, raising his head to glare at her. However, his glare quickly faltered when sadness flickered across her features before she could school them back to her neutral expression.

She shook her head and harshly whispered, “I’m not leaving. I have a promise to keep.” The words struck him like a kick to the chest, taking his breath just as effectively. She pulled her ripped tunic back on with jerky movements, and stood to gather her supplies, throwing them in her pack without looking at him. “I’m getting you to Fraldarius, and then you never have to see me again.” 

That wasn’t what he wanted _at all_ , but he also didn’t want her death on his conscience. All of this felt pointless now. The man had said his days were numbered, but Byleth… she could still get out of this. She could still run. She could still find somewhere safe, somewhere away from his problems that were currently putting her in so much danger. Those men almost killed her just now, and he couldn’t let them succeed the next time they tried. He couldn’t pick up a lance and defend her, all he could do was make her leave.

“You have to go, Byleth,” he very nearly pleaded as he followed her to the back of the wagon, “You have to get out of this while you still can.”

“And just leave you here?” she hissed, whirling on him with fury in her gaze. “You think I could do that? You think I could just go back to my father and leave you to die?”

“I’m not going to die,” he tried to joke but his tone was as heavy as his chest felt, “I’ll be very much alive, just… as a—”

“Stop!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the stables and causing a few of the horses to huff and stomp their feet. She shut her eyes and took a deep breath before getting down on her knees and whispering, “I’m not leaving until you’re back to normal,” he opened his mouth to argue, but she shook her head to silence him and added, “I made a promise to help you figure this out… and I _always_ keep my promises.”

“Screw your promise. It’s not a promise you can keep,” he insisted with a shake of his head. He had made a promise, too—a long, long time ago. But it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to keep his either.

“No,” was the only answer Byleth gave as she climbed up into the wagon, leaving him on the ground. She was like a petulant child that wouldn’t do what was best for her, and it was enough to make him want to scream.

“You’re not getting paid, so there’s no reason for you to be here!” he snapped, hating the words as they spewed from his mouth. He couldn’t see her reaction due to the height of the wagon, and she didn’t bother to respond. All he heard was the sound of a whetstone being dragged across a blade, as a foreign tension suffocated the air between them.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our duo continues their journey toward Fraldarius. Sylvain continues to say all the wrong things.

“Your dog is sort of… odd… wouldn’t you say?” Jeremiah asked in slightly teasing tone from the head of the wagon. Byleth was sitting closer to the front, and had been talking with Jeremiah and his father—though in reality it mostly consisted of Jeremiah’s endless chatter more than Byleth ever actually saying anything—for the past few hours as he stayed toward the back, watching the canyon walls travel past them.

“What do you mean?” Byleth hummed, a note of wariness in her tone.

“Well… he acts like no dog I’ve ever come across. He’s remarkably quiet and well-mannered, and he does not exhibit any of the more obnoxious dog behaviors like endlessly panting and urinating everywhere,” Jeremiah chuckled good-naturedly. “Perhaps you are the best dog trainer in all of Fodlan!” Sylvain rolled his eyes, though it went unseen by the other occupants of the wagon.

“I’m not complaining,” Mister Duey chimed in, “I was a bit worried he’d be trouble, but he keeps to himself remarkably well. Wouldn’t mind having a mutt of my own if it was like that one.”

 _“You might as well cut your losses and run, Demon. The noble boy’s days as anything other than a lowly mutt are numbered.”_ A small whine escaped him as the man’s words from the attack this morning echoed through his head, and he huffed in frustration.

It must not have gone unheard. “Rusty?” Byleth called the stupid dog name she had assigned him. It was the first time she had spoken to him directly since their row early this morning. He tried to pretend to be asleep, hoping that she would just leave him the hell alone, but she called him again. He stood slowly and turned toward her. She smiled softly at him, melting some of the irritation he was feeling—much to his dismay. She waved her hand in a motion to come and he fought the urge to roll his eyes as he did as she asked. He figured as long as he got some scratches to combat the itchiness of his skin, it would be worth the degradation he was suffering at the hands of their conversation. He knew it wouldn’t, not really… but a man—dog—could hope.

She disguised her whispering as a hug again, and asked, “Are you okay?” He huffed in response, before laying down beside her crossed legs and turning his head toward the back of the wagon again. He watched as the stone and foliage of the canyon slowly passed by, and appreciated the smell of the river that was running through the canyon.

“Is he okay?” Jeremiah worriedly asked.

“I think he’s still a bit shaken up from the attack,” Byleth suggested as she hesitantly began to scratch between his ears. He nudged his head against her leg, hoping it would signal that it was fine. Apparently, that hadn’t been the message portrayed, because she stopped immediately. He made that obnoxious whining sound, on purpose this time, and she got the message. She started scratching again, and both of her hands scratched down his sides in a way that helped to combat the itchiness he was feeling.

“Poor thing,” Jeremiah cooed, “He was so brave to try and defend you from those bandits.” If only Jeremiah knew… He wasn’t brave. He had done nothing to try and defend her. All he had done over the last three days was be a burden to Byleth. He was probably the reason she was going to get herself killed. What was brave about that?

Man, this whole self-pity thing was getting old.

“I’m hoping things will be better for him once we get to Fraldarius,” Byleth replied, a note of something soft in her tone as she scratched by his ear. On something that felt like instinct, he moved his head to place it in her lap, and she tensed in surprise before resuming her petting. He really hoped things were better for him once they got to Fraldarius, as well.

Jeremiah asked, “You said that your father is in Fraldarius territory, correct?” Byleth must have nodded in answer or something, but he missed it because his eyes had drifted shut from the pleasantness of the scratching. “What does your father do?”

“He’s a blacksmith,” Byleth lied. He had to admit, she was fairly good at this whole being someone she wasn’t thing.

“I suppose that explains your weapons, though it doesn’t explain your exceptional fighting prowess,” the eager man praised. Sylvain huffed and Byleth chuckled softly as she scratched by his ear. His back leg beat against the ground when she found a spot that felt exceptionally heavenly.

She explained, “My father was a mercenary before he settled down. He taught me everything I know. It comes in handy with how much I like to travel.”

Jeremiah’s tone became even more interested, if that was even possible. “Have you been many places?”

“I’ve been through most of Fodlan, and I’ve spent a little time in Almyra and Brigid, as well.” She seemed to realize that might sound strange for a twenty something single woman and she quickly added, “My father likes to study different styles of smithing, and I like to tag along.”

Old Man Duey interrupted their current conversation by calling, “Heads up! I’ve spotted the end of the canyon. We’ll be reaching our destination in a few hours.” 

Sylvain scrambled to standing and craned his neck to peak out through the front of the wagon, looking past the horses to the end of the canyon that could be seen just ahead. He was so close to home he could almost taste it. Jeremiah and his father had saved them several days of walking, and he wished he could tell them how grateful he was.

As if she was reading his mind, Byleth said, “I can’t thank you enough for letting Rusty and I hitch a ride. You’ve saved us several days of walking, and I’m extremely grateful.” That was almost scary how she did that. Maybe she really did see right through him.

“Enough of that,” Mister Duey lightly chided, “After your heroics last night, I wish we could do more for ya.”

“That was nothing… really,” Byleth denied with a shake of her head. “I’m sorry you had any trouble to begin with.”

“Will you be spending the night in Galatea?” Jeremiah asked with a hopeful gaze.

“No. I’m anxious to get to my father, so I’ll probably keep walking until dark. I’m hoping I can be in Fraldarius in two days, if I hurry.” The words elicited a sigh of relief as he sank down beside Byleth again. 

Two days. Two days and he would be in Fraldarius. He would speak with Rodrigue, make sure his father was informed of what was going on, and get started on figuring out a way to get turned back into himself. Most importantly, in two days he could feel safer knowing that there were countless knights around to hold off anyone who was coming after him. The constant fear of being attacked was quickly becoming exhausting, and it wasn’t just him. Byleth’s face was a bit paler and the soft skin below her eyes was dark with fatigue. She hadn’t slept more than a few hours since this whole mess started. He hoped she would rest a while when they got to Fraldarius.

The issue brought up an interesting line of thought. What would Byleth do when they reached Fraldarius? He would no longer have a need for her, as his safety would be assured by Fraldarius knights (hopefully). This morning she had insisted that she was going to be there until he was turned back to normal, but would she really? What would be the point? Perhaps she would wait in Fraldarius until adequate payment could be sent by his father. That would buy him at least two days in Fraldarius with her, wouldn’t it?

He shook his head like the physical act could shake away the thought. Byleth looked down at him curiously, but he ignored her stare.

Mister Duey hummed thoughtfully and warned, “You’ll want to purchase a new bedroll and a heavy cloak before you go. I’m sure I don’t need to warn you that it will only get colder the further north you go, and your armor can only take you so far.”

She chuckled lightly and responded, “Which is very unfortunate for me. Cold has never been my favorite.” As if mother nature herself was mocking her, a gust of wind blew through the mouth of the canyon, sweeping her wavy blue hair into her face and sending a shiver through her that he felt from his place leaning against her leg. He looked up to see her spluttering and trying to wipe her hair out of her face, and he had to cover his laugh with a bark. She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was no hostility with the bright gleam in those deep pools of blue.

“Yup,” Mister Duey confirmed with a hearty chuckle, “You’ll be wanting a new cloak, then.”

They passed through the mouth of the canyon and crossed over the Bresis River as they officially entered Galatea territory. The land was pretty barren, with not nearly as much greenery as there had been in Alliance territory. One could immediately feel the difference in temperature. Thankfully, he wasn’t cold, due to the thickness of his coat, but he could see the slight discomfort Byleth was feeling as she rubbed the tops of her thighs with the palms of her hands. Her cloak was torn from the fighting this morning, so all she wore was her breastplate with a long-sleeved tunic underneath, which wasn’t nearly enough to fight even the beginning of winter in Faerghus.

They hadn’t made it far from the canyon when the terrifying haziness played at the back of his mind. His eyelids drooped, even as anxiety spiked through him. He forced his suddenly heavy limbs to standing and moved closer to Byleth’s ear as he slurred, “It’s happening again…” Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he nuzzled into the crook of her neck unintentionally.

When she spoke, her voice sounded too far away, even though his ear was right next to her face. “Can we pull over for a while? Rusty—”

He didn’t hear any more as his mind went blank and blank and blank.

When he came to again, he found himself scratching at an itch near his butt with his teeth, and immediately grimaced as he straightened back out. He also noticed they were on the cart, still traveling towards Galatea Estate. His head popped up, and he found Byleth watching him carefully right beside him. Her relief was evident in the heavy exhale and the dropping of her shoulders. She moved to cover her face with her hands with a small sigh and, feeling concerned, he stood to move them away with his nose.

She quickly pulled him into an almost too tight embrace and whispered, “It had to be almost half an hour that time. I was getting worried.” A violent shudder ran through him at the news and she nodded silently as she held him a moment longer. The sun was still high in the sky, which signaled that the time between the episodes was becoming shorter, and they were becoming longer each time. If it was a half hour now, how long would it be before he was losing hours? Losing days? How long would it be before he didn’t come back?

_“The noble boy’s days as anything other than a lowly mutt are numbered.”_

He whimpered again—a soft pathetic sounding thing that made him hate himself a little more. Byleth whispered, “I know, but it’s going to be okay. We’re so close.” He tried to take comfort in her words, but it didn’t seem possible.

It was late afternoon when they reached the town just outside Galatea Estate. He had spent a bit of time here as a child, though they didn’t often stay long. House Galatea was a good deal poorer than Fraldarius, Gautier, or Blaiddyd, so their parents didn’t often impose on Count Galatea’s hospitality. Often it was Ingrid coming to their homes to stay for a while. He did take a sense of comfort in being in a more familiar place as they hopped down from the wagon and Byleth exchanged goodbyes with the Dueys.

“If you are ever near Gloucester again, I do hope you’ll come by to say hello,” Jeremiah said, his eyes crinkled with a forced smile. He seemed to know this wasn’t going anywhere, if his obvious disappointment meant anything.

Byleth was kind as she brushed him off, certainly a good deal kinder than she had been with him at the tavern the first time they met. The thought made his stomach churn, though he wasn’t sure why. Old Man Duey handed her a small bag of gold with a clasping of her forearm that she returned with a small smile.

She made quick work of rifling through the stalls on the main street of town, buying a bedroll and a thick hooded cloak from a tailor’s stall. It was too big for her—drowning her muscular frame—but she murmured something about how it hardly mattered and handed over the necessary gold so they could quickly get back on the road.

Her pace was hurried as they walked for a few hours until darkness had fallen. The silence between them felt heavy for some reason, but maybe that was just him. Eventually she veered off the pathway and approached a small patch of trees and murmured, “We’ll stop here for the night.”

She started a small fire and rolled out her new bedroll before sitting on top of it. She rifled through her pack and pulled out the sack of jerky, placing some on the bedroll a few feet away from her so he could eat. He ate a piece mindlessly, too distracted by the tension between them to really care about eating.

He asked, “Do you really think we’ll get to Fraldarius in two days?”

“Less if I can keep pace,” she mumbled in reply. He was faster than she was, which was a given with the fact that he had four legs and she only had two. 

“You’re already pushing yourself really hard. Don’t strain yourself too much.” She hummed softly in reply, but didn’t say anything as she stared into the fire.

Once he had finished his jerky, he moved so she could curl up in the bedroll. He plopped down on the other side of the fire and stared into it for a while, trying to think about what he should say. He knew he should apologize for the things he said this morning, but he didn’t regret attempting to get her to leave. This was dangerous for her, and they both knew it. Eventually, he settled on one of the questions he had been meaning to ask.

“I’ve been wondering…” he hesitantly began, “… why did that guy call you Ashen Demon?”

“It’s my moniker—the name I’ve become known as. My father is the Blade Breaker, and I’m the Ashen Demon.” She said the name with an air of contempt, but by the light of the fire he could see that her features were downcast. “It means they know who I am, and they know who my father is. Though I doubt they will bother going after him if you are the objective.”

He hadn’t thought of that possibility. “How do you think they figured it out?”

She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be too far of a leap. People know I’m part of Jeralt’s crew, so they probably put two and two together after interrogating people at the inn.”

“How did you get that moniker? It doesn’t seem…” he paused, considering his next words, “It doesn’t seem to fit you.”

The side of the mouth twitched up ever so slightly, but the half smile quickly vanished as her expression became stormy. “When I was twelve, my father was contacted by a village near the Fodlan and Almyran border. For over a year, a group of bandits had been terrorizing this village, plundering and attacking them periodically. My father took us to help, and after being unable to find the bandit's hideout, decided to have us try to assimilate to the village until they came again. Then one night, they were spotted heading toward the village. My father and his men went out to meet them, but forced me to stay back with the elderly, the women, and the children. All of us crammed into the small chapel the village used for worship.” 

She went quiet then, staring into the fire. He waited, tense from the amount of emotion on her normally neutral face. “Some of the bandits slipped past my father and his men, and came in to attack us at the chapel. All I had was my dagger, and I wasn’t as trained as I would have liked to be. They tried to take one of the young girls, one that was just older than I was. One of the older men tried to stop them, but the bandits killed him. So… I did what I felt I had to do. I killed one, took his sword, and attacked the other three. They were so shocked, I was able to kill them relatively easy. That was the first time I ever killed anyone.”

“My father came to check on us, and found me covered in the bandit’s blood. Apparently because I wasn’t freaking out about all of the blood and death, I made everyone nervous. One of the women said I killed my victims without sympathy, and called me a little demon. Somewhere along the way, the ashen part was thrown in—I can only assume it’s because of my pale skin. So… I’m the Ashen Demon. The ruthless mercenary who kills without emotion,” she finished with a quiet sigh.

“But you saved all those people!” he argued in a raised voice. “How could she call you a demon when they were going to hurt that girl? They could have hurt all of them?!”

A mirthless chuckle spilled from her lips as she wrapped the bedroll tighter around herself. “I don’t know. I guess people don’t like seeing young girls as able to kill and maim, no matter the circumstances.”

He grumbled, “That may be the case, but you shouldn’t let them call you that if you don’t want them to. You aren’t a demon.”

“It’s just a name,” she yawned, “My reputation gets us more jobs, just like my father’s does. It doesn’t matter that much.”

He watched her eyes drift shut before quietly asking, “Speaking of names… where did you get Sitri? It’s certainly more creative than Rusty.” He snorted derisively, making her chuckle as she slowly opened her eyes again.

A hint of melancholy slipped into her tone, or perhaps it was just the fatigue, as she said, “That was my mother’s name. Sitri Eisner.”

“Oh.” She had only mentioned that her mother had died giving birth to her, but it was obviously a touchy subject. “It’s a beautiful name.”

She hummed softly as she nuzzled into her bedroll, and then mumbled, “I think so, too.”

He woke up late in the night to the sound of Byleth’s teeth chattering as she crawled out of her bedroll to restart the fire that must have died as they slept. He watched her silently as she threw some more wood on and pulled out her flint to spark it with her dagger. The shadows that flickered across her face from the light of the fire made her look even more haggard than she already was before she crawled back to her bedroll, breathing into her hands to try and warm them.

If they were traveling under normal circumstances, she would most likely have at least a tent to keep her out of the wind and cold, not to mention other people to share a bedroll with in order to keep warm. However, these were not normal circumstances. 

He slowly stood and shook out his fur before hesitantly walking over to her bedroll. She blinked up at him with sleepy doe eyes until he quietly offered, “If you let me in, you might be warmer.”

She chuckled softly and yawned, “Trying to get into bed with me again, Sylvain?” She was obviously freezing, and a sliver of worry wormed into his chest.

He half-heartedly teased, “Sharing a bedroll with a beautiful woman like yourself? What else could a guy like me ever dream of?” 

She opened the side of the bedroll and he laid down on his side with his back facing Byleth. She whined, “Your fur is cold,” as she wrapped an arm around him, still shivering. He wished he wasn’t like this. He wished he could pull her to his chest and hold her until she was warm. He wished it so much it formed an ache in his chest. 

“Just give it a moment,” he whispered in reply. However, he quickly realized that her breathing had already started to even out as she started to fall back asleep. The arm around him became looser as he felt her warm breath shift the fur on his nape. He stared into the fire long after she had drifted off again, silently willing it to stay lit long enough to keep her warm as she rested.

  
_All he could see was darkness, and all he could feel was the icy water he was striving to keep his head above. His fingers hurt from trying to grab hold of the slick stone at the bottom of the well. His teeth chattered as he desperately called Miklan’s name over and over._

_A sinister laugh echoed through the air above him, sending a shudder down his spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “What are you going to do now, baby brother?” Miklan taunted. If he strained his eyes, he could just make out the shock of red hair that was so similar to his own._

_“Please! Please just get me out!” he cried, not caring that it was pathetic and weak. He was so cold, and it was becoming harder and harder to keep afloat. His limbs were becoming sluggish and heavy as he tried to find a hand hold along the wall again._

_“Maybe I should just leave you down there,” Miklan mused in a cruel tone, “It would be better for everyone if you were dead, anyway. And then I would get to be the heir again.”_

_“Please,” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, “I don’t want to die, Miklan. I’m sorry! Please, just get me out!”_

“Sylvain?” His eyes flew open and he tried to sit up, momentarily forgetting that he was a dog so he couldn’t exactly do that. He whipped his head toward Byleth and found her frowning as she sat up in the bedroll. She quietly asked, “Are you okay?”

He let out a weak laugh as he tried to regain as much composure as one could possibly have as a dog. “Just a nightmare,” he explained in a forced easy tone, “Sorry to wake you.”

She was doing that ‘I see through you stare’ again and he fought the urge to cower away from it. The panic from his nightmare was still coursing through him, even after the hundreds of times he’d had it, and he didn’t think he could deal with her scary ability to see right through him right now. 

She frowned as she asked, “Who is Miklan?” Shit. He must have been talking in his sleep again. Felix used to complain about it all the time when they were kids, and it got especially bad when he had nightmares like the one about the night he spent at the bottom of the well.

He looked away as he replied, “My… brother.” 

“What did he do to you?” Her voice was low, like it was when she attacked Jerry and his men, and the incident in the stables. When he turned to glance at her, her blue eyes burned with anger and her jaw was rigidly set. 

“Nothing.” The lie slipped from his tongue like a reflex. A reflex that was built up after an entire lifetime of being asked where a bruise or other injury came from. A lifetime of covering up for his asshole brother and his hatred. 

Her features softened before she whispered, “I can tell you’re lying.”

“Oh yeah?” he sneered, “And how can you tell?”

“You were just whimpering his name in your sleep. You were asking him to get you out. I’m just… if you want to talk I can—"

He wasn’t sure why her words sparked so much anger. Perhaps it was because she was always so damned earnest. Or maybe it was the fact that she acted like she cared when she really shouldn’t. Either way, he found himself snapping before he could stop himself. “Look, it’s none of your business so leave me alone!” 

He maneuvered his way out of the warm bedroll before quickly realizing that he couldn’t walk away. He was stuck with her, whether he liked it or not. In a somewhat rash decision, he walked into the trees, hoping to at least escape her gaze for a while. She called his name once, but she didn’t come after him. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or sad about that.

After putting some distance between him and Byleth he started to pace in the trees, still trying to calm down after the panic from the nightmare. It also wasn’t helping him feel better that he had snapped at Byleth, _again_. She didn’t deserve it, and he knew it, but he wasn’t going to touch the Miklan issue with her of all people. She already pitied him for his current situation, there was no reason to add an abusive older brother to her mental image of him. The image wasn’t flattering as it was.

It was after dawn, and he knew Byleth would want to leave soon, but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. His current fucked up situation was getting to him again, and he could feel the now familiar self-pity that was worming its way into his chest again. He felt so… trapped. And it wasn’t just with Byleth, it was the whole thing. He couldn’t do anything to help himself, and he couldn’t get away from any of it. He couldn’t go and have a drink, he couldn’t go and find some random girl to fuck, he couldn’t do any of the things he normally did when his life felt out of control. 

He wanted to scream, he wanted to punch something, he wanted to do so many things that he couldn’t do because he was stuck as a fucking dog! A snarling bark ripped through him, a menacing thing that rang through the trees. If he ever got his hands on the person who did this to him, he was going to—

The train of thought was cut off when the haziness started to creep into his mind again. It was still so early?! Why was it happening now?! He tried to walk back towards their camp and weakly called Byleth’s name a few times. He couldn’t see her, and he couldn’t tell whether she had heard him or not. Fear overwhelmed him until his mind became blank and blank and blank…

The world came back into focus and his eyes blew wide when it became painfully clear that he was in the middle of licking Byleth’s face. 

“Fuck!” he yelped as he scrambled backwards, falling over in his hurry to put distance between them.

“You’re back,” Byleth sighed in relief as she wiped her face with the sleeve of her cloak, “We need to get moving. We’ve lost enough daylight as it is.” Her pack was already prepared, and she pulled it onto her back before heading back in the direction of the road.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he stammered.

She looked over her shoulder and asked, “For what?” 

“I was licking you!” Why was he having to explain why licking her was something that he felt the need to apologize for? Well… licking her as a dog, anyway. If the situation was vastly different, he wouldn’t mind… probably. Oh, who was he kidding? He definitely wouldn’t mind. He’d make sure she enjoyed it, too.

“You always do that when you have those… episodes,” she explained, causing horror to wash through him, “Dogs lick people. I know it’s not you that is doing it, so you don’t have to apologize.” He idly wondered whether this morning could get any worse. 

As they were walking, he mumbled, “How did you find me? I was worried that because I was farther away…” He had been scared that he would lose her. With how long the episodes were getting, it wouldn’t be a stretch to worry that he might just walk away from her and she wouldn’t be able to find him.

“I heard your bark and thought I should try to find you, but dog you beat me to it. I only had to call your name once and you came barreling through the trees. I figured that since you weren’t… you… it would be safer to stay at camp. I gave you breakfast and then you wanted to play.” 

He groaned, “Oh goddess,” as he dipped his head in mortification.

Tense silence settled between them as they walked until Byleth broke it by pointing out, “Your episodes are getting longer, and the time between them is shorter.”

He whispered, “I know,” fear twisting in his chest.

Another tense moment of silence, and then she said, “I think we need to start talking about who you think might have hired Kronya and her lot to do this to you.”

“You just need to get me to Fraldarius,” he argued, “none of that is your problem.”

“It may not be my problem,” she said the word with a layer of distaste that forced him to look up at her, “but they need to pay for what they’ve done.”

“I don’t care who did it,” he replied, “All I care about is trying to get turned back before it’s too late.” It wasn’t completely true, but the person who did this to him was his last priority in the face of the potential of slowly losing his mind and becoming a dog permanently. 

She stopped walking and turned to narrow her eyes at him. “You may not care, but I do.”

“Why?” he barked, “It doesn’t affect your payment, and it doesn’t affect you getting your job done and then leaving, so leave it the hell alone.”

She groaned in frustration and threw her hands in the air. “In case you haven’t noticed, they are trying to kill me now. I think that affects me, don’t you?” He looked away as shame seemed to creep up his nape. “And you don’t get to tell me who or what I get to care about, asshole. You want to keep everything to yourself? Fine. But I’m in this with you now, no matter what.”

With his head still bowed, he mumbled, “I don’t want you to be.” He didn’t want her to be in danger. He didn’t want these people to be hunting her down like they were with him. He wanted her to go back to her father and be safe.

She turned away and started walking again, calling over her shoulder, “Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me then.”

He groaned in frustration and trailed after her. “Wait! That’s not what I meant.”

She put out her hand and grunted, “Quiet.” Four riders on horseback were coming the opposite direction, talking loudly as they rode. He continued to walk after her, watching her rigidly set shoulders as she very nearly jogged down the dirt road. The riders passed and when they were far enough away that he could no longer smell the horses he opened his mouth to apologize, but she beat him to it.

She quietly said, “Let’s just focus on getting you to Fraldarius. We’ll figure out what else we need to do once we get you there safely.”

He didn’t bother replying. Instead he kept his mouth shut so no other stupid words could come out.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Byleth finally make it to Fraldarius Estate. Byleth gets acquainted with some of Sylvain's friends, and he is forced to deal with some of his feelings.
> 
> CW: Sylvain ponders some of Miklan's abusive tendencies. Hopefully you're only reading a Sylvain fic if it isn't too triggering. Nothing explicit, but I wanted to place the warning, just in case.

Sylvain was busy thanking the goddess for the fact that they hadn’t run into any trouble in almost two days when Byleth interrupted his mentally spoken gratitude prayers. She hesitantly asked, “So… what is your plan for when we finally get to Fraldarius Estate?” 

“What do you mean?” he prodded as he looked up at her. She looked exhausted. The bags under her eyes were deep and there was a slight slouch in her shoulders that hadn’t been there when they started their journey. He was grateful that Byleth would be getting to Fraldarius for safety and rest, as well. He assumed that Lord Rodrigue would be fine giving her a place to stay and food to eat for a few days—after all, she had saved his life.

“One random mercenary woman and her dog aren’t going to be let past the first patrol knight, I’m slightly surprised we haven’t been turned away yet,” she explained with a look of sympathy, “And I know you trust the Fraldarius family, but I don’t know if you’ll be able to talk to a random knight and get them to believe you.”

“Oh…” Shit. He hadn’t considered that with all of the endless fear of being attacked. They had to be less than two hours from the estate if he remembered correctly—and goddess knows he’d been here enough to consider the place a second home. He’d never had any trouble passing through the gates and guards, in fact he’d hardly even thought of such things. They were just his life and the life of his friends. However, these were obviously different circumstances.

“What if we have one of the knights get a message to Felix?” she supplied as she kicked a small rock further down the path, “It would have to be something that only the two of you know, so he would potentially let us in and you could try to talk to him directly. Can you think of anything that would get his attention? Assuming he’s even there, of course.”

He grumbled, “Let’s cross that bridge if we get to it.” He didn’t want to think about the possibility of Felix not being there. All of this would be significantly less… comforting… if Felix was off somewhere else. Though it would probably get him out of at least one lecture about being an irresponsible fuck up that wildly carouses with women. What had Felix called him that one time? Insatiable?

“I’d rather be prepared,” she sighed wearily, “Your episodes are long enough that I’m going to need to know what to say no matter who it is we’re brought before.”

Unfortunately, she had a point. Byleth estimated that the longest episode he’d had--coincidentally the one that happened this morning--was at least an hour and a half, and he was having them almost three times a day now. The hazy feeling was now a terrifying experience, though they were both grateful that Dog Sylvain seemed to listen to Byleth. She had realized that they could continue walking, even when he was in that state. Byleth told him that they were a bit slower due to the dog’s tendency to wander a bit, but they hadn’t had any incidents of the dog running off, which was a very good thing. He would rather not suffer the humiliation of a leash and collar in order to stay near Byleth.

He hummed contemplatively for a moment and then said, “Felix would be easy. He and I made a promise when we were children—I was probably about ten, and he was probably eight or so. We promised…” he trailed off as emotion threatened to overwhelm him, “We promised we’d stay together until we died together.” He shook his head, trying to clear the dread that formed at the prospect of breaking the most important promise he had ever made, with one of the people who meant the most to him.

He somewhat gruffly finished, “If you mention that to Felix, it should get you a meeting with him.”

“Are you two…?” Byleth trailed off with an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

That earned genuine laughter, so much so that he had to stop walking for a moment to pull himself together. The levity the question brought helped to banish the dread to the corner of his mind—not forgotten completely, but pushed aside enough to make breathing a little easier. “No,” he chuckled, “not like that.” He sighed heavily, becoming more serious as he explained, “It’s… Felix is probably the person that I trust most in the world. He’s been my friend ever since I can remember. Dimitri, Ingrid, and Glenn are also special to me, but with Felix…” he trailed off as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. “I don’t know how to explain it. Felix and I have always been close.”

Tear-filled amber eyes looking up at him flashed before his mind’s eye and he bowed his head. “He’s going to be so pissed.” He tried to joke, but it came out sounding pretty pitiful instead. He wasn’t looking forward to whatever reaction his current condition got from Felix, especially when the raven-haired swordsman learned about the potential for him to be… no longer Sylvain. 

He dryly thought, _“Maybe Felix wants a dog… Or would that be cruel? It’d be a loophole for our promise. I’ll be with him… I just… won’t be me.”_

“Don’t sound like that,” Byleth chided as her lips set in a thin line.

He scoffed, “Like what?” 

“Like you’ve given up.” He really hated the way she saw through him like that. He really did. She continued, “We’re going to figure this out, and then you’ll live on until you can die with your best friend one day.” She snorted slightly and mumbled, “If you don’t get married, first.”

“Hey!” He playfully—if somewhat indignantly—shouted as he moved in front of her, “I told you it wasn’t like that.” 

“I think it’s sweet,” she cooed, and then in an exaggerated voice and with a fluttering of her eyelashes she crooned, “Let’s stay together until we die together, Sylvain!” She clasped her hands like she was begging before bending down to pat his head. 

An ugly feeling twisted in his chest, and he stopped moving. The shift in the mood must have shown in his posture or something because she immediately became serious and dropped down onto one knee so she was face to face with him. “What’s wrong? Is it happening again?”

“It’s not something to joke about,” he whispered brokenly, “That promise… it means more than anything to me.” He shook his head and turned away from her, not wanting to talk about it any further. 

He still vividly remembered the day their promise was made, and the days that led up to it. Miklan took him on a “hunting trip” one day. He’d promised that they were going to go into the mountains and he was going to teach a young Sylvain how to kill a wolf—so he could bring the pelt back for his father as a gift. This was back when his father’s opinion still mattered to him, when he still had that innate desire to please him, and so he’d easily fallen for the trap. He was a naïve child, who still wanted to believe that because Miklan was his older brother, he couldn’t possibly want him dead. The beatings were punishment for what he’d taken from Miklan, he’d “deserved them”—but the fake hunting trip was the first time when his life was truly in danger. 

Though, it wasn’t the last.

Miklan left him at the top of the mountain. He’d told him to wait as he “followed some tracks” that Sylvain couldn’t see, but he believed his older brother all the same. He’d huddled up against a tree in the freezing cold for hours, until the chill set in and he passed out from hypothermia. He’d woken up three days later, his body needing extra time to recover. He was confused at first, until he was finally told he’d been found by some of the Gautier knights, who had gone out to search when Miklan returned and reported that he’d “gotten lost”. That was the first time Miklan truly threatened him. His older brother—the one that should have been there to protect him, to tease him, to help teach him right from wrong—told him that if he said a word of what happened to their parents, he’d kill him.

When Felix had heard about his condition, he had apparently demanded to come up to Gautier. When Sylvain lied to him and said he’d gotten lost, Felix didn’t believe him. Felix knew it was Miklan, and he wanted to tell their parents, but Sylvain begged him not to. Terrified of what the consequences of Felix telling would be, he confessed to Felix that Miklan had threatened to kill him if his parents found out. It was one of the first times Sylvain recalled seeing rage twist Felix’s childish features. He had promised to keep Sylvain’s secret that day, on the condition that they made their promise. They would stay together and protect each other, until they eventually died together. They promised to always be best friends, no matter what. 

It was a childish promise in the fact that it was naïve and idealistic in nature, but the love behind that promise stood the test of time. Even for all that Felix and Sylvain had changed as they grew older—Felix becoming sharper tongued, and Sylvain with his promiscuity and fake façade—they always found comfort in one another when times became hard. When it came down to it, Felix was the person he trusted most in the world. In fact, he was one of the few people he trusted in this world. 

“Hey,” Byleth called, trying to get him to turn back. When he didn’t, she walked around until they were facing each other again. “I’m sorry I made light of something that is so important to you,” she whispered as she knelt down on the ground again, “We’re going to get you through this. You won’t break your promise, and I won’t break mine.” Her tone was serious, and that ever annoying eagerness shown through as she promised again to stay with him until he turned back. He was about to retort, when he smelled horses coming up behind them.

He whispered, “Someone’s coming.” Byleth nodded and stood to move over to the side of the road. She glanced over her shoulder as the sound of hoof beats got closer and closer. Unfortunately, they halted beside them, and when he turned to look up at who it was, his breath hitched in his throat. 

Something must have shown in his posture, because Byleth put a hand on her sword’s hilt and stepped in front of him protectively. However, he immediately moved to look past her to a familiar face framed by golden locks, sitting atop a horse a few feet away. She was surrounded by an honor guard of knights, dressed in her finer travel clothes. Her long hair had been braided intricately down her back and she even seemed to have a bit of makeup on, which he knew she wasn’t fond of. 

What the hell was she doing here, though?

“Hello,” Ingrid greeted in an overly formal tone that would have him snickering if he wasn’t freaked out but her sudden appearance, “Are you heading to Fraldarius Estate? If not, I fear you took a wrong turn.” She was being overly defensive in Sylvain’s opinion. What could one mercenary and a dog possibly harm? 

Well, on second thought… Byleth could probably do some damage before they had the time to take her down.

“I am,” Byleth responded in the same tone she used with Jeremiah and Old Man Duey, “I am seeking an audience with Sir Felix Fraldarius.”

“Felix?” Ingrid asked with furrowed eyebrows, “He is a dear friend of mine. What business could you have with him?”

Byleth looked down at him and he stepped backwards, suddenly feeling more afraid than he thought he would be at the prospect of telling someone he cared about what was happening to him. His panic must have shown, because Byleth knelt down beside him to put a comforting hand on his back. “I have a message for him.”

“Well, if you’d like, I could take your message for you?” Ingrid offered, with a note of suspicion. The knights around her sensed her unease, and were looking warily from their liege to the mercenary girl who presented a possible threat. One knight went as far as placing his horse slightly in between Byleth and Ingrid.

“It’s… personal,” Byleth answered. Ingrid lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, and Byleth looked down to him again. He considered saying something, but Ingrid was surrounded by an honor guard of knights. If he said something now, they would all know. Was it the right decision? Or should he wait until they were alone with Felix to reveal his true identity?

Eventually, his tongue made the decision for him. “Ingrid, it’s me,” slipped from his mouth without being fully considered. Byleth tensed beside him as the knights all put hands on their weapons, and Ingrid looked around the area with a bewildered look on her face. “Ingrid, it’s Sylvain. I’m… the dog.” 

Light green eyes blew wide as Ingrid immediately dismounted and slowly walked toward him. “Sylvain? What… how… why—” she stammered as she continued to stare at him in shock, until she did something that he hadn’t considered. “What did you do to him?!” she roared as she drew her sword and stalked toward Byleth.

Byleth raised her hands in surrender and took a step back, her face calm even as Ingrid pointed a sword at her throat. He stepped between them and desperately called out, “She didn’t do anything! Stop!” Ingrid halted long enough to look down at him, still seeming unsure as she sent distrustful glances Byleth’s direction. “Look,” he huffed, “can you get us into the estate? Byleth and I are both in danger, and I’d rather explain everything once we’re safe.”

Ingrid tensed as soon as he said danger and quickly walked back over to her horse. “Let’s go. But know that I expect a good explanation.” Ingrid circled her finger in the air and the knights that made up her honor guard quickly formed a perimeter around the three of them while casting bewildered looks his way. 

He dipped his head, trying to avoid their stares. Byleth whispered, “Are you okay?” He didn’t look up, just continued to stare at the dirt between his paws as he shook his head. Byleth didn’t say anything further.

They were greeted at the gate by Glenn, who stood in his finer clothes with his long hair braided around his head and down his shoulder. It seemed they were both prepared for some sort of occasion. Glenn hardly ever put that much attention to his appearance, neither did Ingrid. They were both more focused on whatever work their “duty” required. 

Glenn smiled broadly as soon as he spotted Ingrid, and his sky-blue gaze became outwardly fond as he took in her appearance. They may have been affianced when Ingrid was still ridiculously young, but a genuine love had grown between them over the years. Sylvain still remembered coaching a thoroughly blushing Ingrid through how to tell Glenn that she wanted to marry him for love, not just duty. He also remembered Glenn’s shy smile as he confessed that he felt the same. He and Felix both crouched behind bushes spying on their conversation, pretending to gag at their overt displays of affection before running away snickering when Ingrid finally caught them. 

Ingrid dismounted, and handed the reins of her horse to one of the knights before she ordered, “Not a word to anyone of what you saw.” The knights all nodded and bowed as much as one could on horseback before riding their steeds toward the stables. Glenn’s eyes had shifted to Byleth and then back to Ingrid as he lifted an eyebrow in question. Ingrid took her fiance’s hand and gruffly said, “We need to speak with your father and Felix. Now.” 

Glenn continued to look between Ingrid and Byleth. “What happened, Ingrid?” Glenn asked with obvious concern in the face of his fiancee’s consternated features.

“Privately,” Ingrid insisted, as she began to drag him through the courtyard in the direction of the front doors, waving for Byleth to follow without a word. Byleth look at him in question, and he minutely shook his head before following after Ingrid.

“We have a meeting with the dressmaker in an hour,” Glenn reminded with an inquisitive tone. That must be why Ingrid was coming here, they were planning for the wedding. Just his fucking luck that he was going to drag more people into this.

“This is more important,” was Ingrid’s grim response.

He and Byleth were left in the private sitting room that the Fraldarius family only used for themselves and their closest friends. It was situated for more privacy, and he knew only a select few of the servants were allowed in this part of the household—which was ideal when one had a talking dog who was actually the heir to House Gautier who was currently being hunted by a group of skilled mercenaries. Ingrid ordered them to stay put as she and Glenn went to go and find Lord Rodrigue and Felix. 

He wasn’t sure he had ever seen Byleth this uncomfortable before. “Friends of yours?” she awkwardly chuckled as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.

“Ingrid Galatea, heir to House Galatea, and Glenn Fraldarius, heir to House Fraldarius,” he introduced in a solemn tone, realizing that they neither of them had bothered to introduce themselves or even ask Byleth her name, “They are getting married in less than four moons-time. Ingrid is another one of my childhood friends. I… didn’t think she would be here.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she hesitantly asked as she took her pack off and moved to sit in front of him. He silently appreciated the fact that she did this whenever she was able. It made him feel less… degraded. Not that being a dog was doing anything other than harming his pride, he just appreciated that she would literally stoop to speak with him whenever she was able.

He half-heartedly joked, “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to hear an additional lecture,” before looking away from her large doe eyes, full of concern.

She softly, too softly, asked, “Are you worried about a lecture, or worried they will be worried about you?” 

He huffed in annoyance and exaggeratedly groaned, “You have got to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” she asked, moving around until she could look into his eyes again.

“Seeing right through me,” he huffed, “It’s fucking annoying.”

She chuckled lightly and reached out a hand like she might touch him, before dropping it back to her lap. “I wouldn’t say I see right through you,” she mumbled as she picked at a rip in her leggings, “though it’s a bit easier with your ears and your tail. Your posture says a lot, though I guess you can’t really help that.”

“Just another reason to get turned back then,” he sighed wearily. One of approximately a million. “Hey, I’m sorry about Ingrid earlier.”

“I would have done the same thing,” she shrugged. “I’m glad you have people that are willing to protect you like that.”

“She also didn’t introduce herself or even ask your name,” he argued, surprised by the defensiveness in his tone.

“You didn’t either,” she reminded with a raised eyebrow. _Well, fuck._

He opened his mouth to apologize… again… but he was interrupted by running footsteps outside the door. Byleth—probably on instinct after the couple of days they had—was immediately on her feet with her hand on the hilt of her sword, when the door burst open with a loud crash and a panting Felix scrambled into the room. He immediately stalked toward Byleth as he shouted, “Where’s Sylvain?! What’s going on?!”

She stepped to the side with a look to him and he nodded as he tried to tease, “Hey, Fe. I see you’re as friendly as usual. Is that any way to speak to a pretty lady?”

Felix’s jaw dropped open as he staggered back a few paces. Familiar amber eyes blew wide as he looked between him and Byleth frantically for a moment, like one of them were about to break out laughing and say it was all a joke. He wasn’t emotionally prepared when Felix dropped down to his knees in front of him and asked with something that sounded like desperation, “What happened to you?!”

“It’s… a long story,” he stammered, feeling uneasy under both Felix and Byleth’s intense stares, “I’d rather only have to tell it once.” Felix sat back on his heels and ran a hand through his hair, pulling some of it loose from the bun on top of his head. He was in training clothes, so he must have been training when Ingrid or Glenn found him—though that fact was hardly surprising.

“Now don’t be rude, Fe. Introduce yourself.” He nodded toward Byleth, who bowed awkwardly. He laughed at her awkward reaction, and it seemed to cut some of the tension in the room. 

Felix stood and held out a hand. “I’m Felix Hugo Fraldarius, though I am guessing you already knew that.”

Byleth took his hand and shook it as she formally responded, “Byleth Eisner. It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir.”

“How did you meet Sylvain?” Felix asked with a curious tilt of his head.

She spoke more formally than he had ever heard as she politely responded, “He has employed me to get him to safety.”

“Safety?” Felix asked as he turned to look down at Sylvain with wide eyes, “Where is your honor guard? What trouble are you in?”

“I would also like to know the answers to those questions,” Ingrid interjected as she walked in, closely followed by Glenn and Lord Rodrigue Fraldarius.

Lord Rodrigue cleared his throat and turned to Byleth as he said, “If you wouldn’t mind stepping outside—” 

Byleth was already picking up her pack to leave the room but he shook his head and insisted, “I’d rather she stayed. She knows about everything already, so she might be able to fill in any blanks.” Lord Rodrigue and Glenn both flinched back as soon as he spoke, before quickly composing themselves again. Both examined him with an open curiosity that made him want to squirm.

“By the goddess,” Lord Rodrigue breathed as he walked closer, “Is it really you? What has happened to you, dear boy?”

He chuckled awkwardly and sat before motioning his head for them to sit down. “It’s… a long story.” He waited for all of them to get comfortable before glancing around the room for Byleth, only to notice her slowly inching toward the door.

“Do you want to go?” he asked, hating the softness of his tone as soon as it came from his mouth.

“I… um… I should wait outside if…” she hesitantly stammered, looking uncomfortable again.

“Please stay? I don’t know when it’ll happen again, and I’d rather have you here, just in case.” It was an excuse, no matter how valid. Thankfully she nodded begrudgingly and walked over to sit on the couch furthest from the others. He wondered if it was because of them personally, or if it was more of a reaction to being around nobility. She hadn’t acted the way when he had hit on her, so he didn’t fully understand why she was acting this way. He also didn’t understand why it was making him feel… uneasy? Anxious? He wasn’t quite sure what the feeling was when he examined her nervous features. Maybe the tightness in his chest was just from the anxiety of having to tell the people that he loves what happened to him.

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, trying to get his mind on topic. “I was coming back from Hilda and Caspar’s wedding when I decided to take an… unplanned detour.” Felix rolled his eyes and sank back further into the couch and Ingrid sighed wearily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Of course, his friends knew about his habit of ditching his guards so he could get into trouble—he just hadn’t been expecting this level of trouble. 

“I stopped in a random tavern after ditching my guard, and picked up a girl named Kronya. She slipped something in my drink and dragged me up to one of the rooms. At first, I thought she was trying to take advantage of me, but it quickly became clear that that wasn’t what she had in mind. She pulled a knife on me and said…” he paused as he fought to suppress a shudder, “She said I had angered the wrong people, but she wasn’t hired to kill me. She was hired to… train me, and give the client the finished product.”

“The client?” Felix asked with narrowed eyes.

“Train you?!” Ingrid shouted, with her voice full of fiery indignation.

“That’s where Byleth comes in,” he nodded toward Byleth, who nodded once before dropping her eyes to her lap, “I called out for help, and she fought with Kronya long enough so I could get away. The only problem was, I was basically drugged… so I accidentely passed out in her wagon, only to wake up like this.”

“And that’s when you hired her to get you to safety?” Felix asked with a hint of newfound respect for Byelth. Amber eyes kept flicking between himself and Byleth as he spoke.

“Well… I tried… but her father—Jeralt the Blade Breaker—was reluctant at first. Kronya nearly killed Byleth the night before and he… I believe the exact words were “didn’t want to get involved with this magic shit” or something along those lines.”

“Sounds about right for a mercenary,” Ingrid scoffed. Byleth’s eyes narrowed, nearly imperceptibly.

Before he could scold Ingrid for saying something like that right in front of Byleth—the woman that was quite literally the only reason he was here. Lord Rodrigue turned to Byleth and kindly asked, “Are you injured?” 

Byleth bowed her head and softly replied, “Nothing you need to trouble yourself with, my Lord.”

“You don’t have to act weird just because he’s a Lord,” he groused as he walked over to paw at her leg, “Stop it.”

She moved her legs to the side, temporarily out of his range, earning a soft chuckle from Lord Rodrigue. “He’s right, my dear. I am not as much of a stickler for formalities as some of my counterparts are.”

“You’re willing to pin me to a bar top for grabbing you by the wrist but you’re all “my Lord” with him?” he exaggeratedly scoffed, “I think I’m offended.”

“You were hitting on me,” she grumbled with a sharp look, “it’s different.”

“I already like her,” Felix snickered as he looked over Byleth again, eyes dwelling on the sword on her hip. Figures the guy wouldn’t just check out her rack like a normal dude.

“Agreed,” Glenn said with a light shove to his younger brother’s shoulder. Felix shoved back, only to be put in a headlock as they jostled an irritated Ingrid who sat on Glenn's other side. 

“I’m already a dog,” he irritably barked, “Could you not gang up on me, please? Also, none of you even acknowledged her when you first saw her, so it’s not like any of you are any better than me.”

Glenn and Felix looked to the side while Ingrid mumbled, “I acknowledged her.” 

He scolded, “I had to tell her your names, and you didn’t even ask her for hers.” 

“I’m a mercenary,” Byleth matter-of-factly interjected, “that’s what all nobles do.” It was like she didn’t even have a problem with it. How could she be so used to it? So used to being treated like she was hardly even there? For all that people only saw him for his Crest and his name, they at least acknowledged him when he walked into a fucking room, other than to tell him to leave. It made his chest burn in a way that was really starting to irritate him.

“A mercenary who repeatedly saved my life and is now being hunted just like I am,” he snapped, still fuming. “Now would you stop being weird so I can tell the rest of this story?” 

“Alright…” she nodded and put up her hands in mock surrender, “I’m fine. Just… tell them. It’s okay.”

He blew out a heavy breath to try and recollect himself as he turned back toward Rodrigue, Ingrid, Glenn, and Felix. “The Blade Breaker’s crew wasn’t willing to help me, so I went to another—much smaller—company that had also been staying at the tavern. They agreed to take me to Gautier, but it was a trick. They had already been hired by Kronya to take me to her. They attacked me and tied me up to take me away,” Ingrid put a hand over her mouth while Glenn and Felix scowled, “but Byleth stopped them. She incapacitated the others, and chased after the leader who had tried to run off with me.”

“She got me away, and reluctantly agreed to take me to Gautier. We were walking back toward the tavern to tell her father, when another group of mercenaries showed up. We’re assuming they work for Kronya or whomever Kronya works for, because as soon as they got the information they needed, they slit the throats of every member of the crew who had been hired to take me to Kronya.”

Ingrid drew in a sharp breath as Rodrigue grimaced and put a hand to his chin in thought. “That group of mercenaries has been hunting us since Gloucester territory. We were attacked as we slept two nights ago, but Byleth was able to kill them before they could take me. She tried to interrogate one of them to get answers, but all he said was that the leader was coming for her, and that my days as anything other than a “mutt” were numbered.”

“What does that mean?” Ingrid asked with obvious trepidation.

He slowly explained, “I have these… episodes… where I don’t remember what happens.” 

Byleth softly added, “He acts like an actual dog. His eyes and his posture change, and he can’t talk anymore.” She grimaced as she looked down at her hands.

“What?” Felix asked, horror laced through his tone.

“How long are they?” Lord Rodrigue asked, all business as he looked between himself and Byleth.

Byleth grimly reported, “The first one was only a few minutes, but they have steadily gotten longer. The latest one happened this morning, and was probably over an hour and a half. They are becoming more frequent as time goes on. He’s been able to warn me, and the… dog… is usually pretty good at staying by me, which is fortunate.”

“That’s what you meant when you said you wanted her to stay because it might happen again,” Glenn surmised as he shook his head, “That’s… fucked up.”

“Glenn,” Ingrid lightly scolded as she rolled her eyes.

“He’s right,” Felix gritted out through clenched teeth, “It’s fucked up.”

He cleared his throat and tried to get the conversation back to the business at hand. He felt too nervous to try and deal with their opinions on the matter at the moment. “Byleth thought it would be safer to come here, because whomever hired them to do this might be watching my family.” 

“A wise decision,” Rodrigue said with a heavy sigh, “Your father needs to be notified, and we obviously need to find a way to get you changed back as quickly as possible.”

“I’m going to find Kronya,” Byleth reported in a low voice, “She’ll either know how to change him back, or she’ll point me to whomever does.”

“What?” he croaked, panic creeping into his chest at the very thought, “You aren’t going after her! She’ll kill you!”

“Not if I kill her first,” Byleth gritted out as she clenched her fists in her lap.

“I’m going with you,” Felix immediately chimed, his amber eyes narrowed with a dangerous glint.

“No!” he barked, turning to Felix, “Neither of you are—” he trailed off as the now familiar haziness started at the back of his mind. “Shit…” he slurred, staggering slightly on his feet.

“Sylvain?” Byleth called, as she scrambled over to kneel in front of him.

“What’s going on?” Ingrid worriedly asked.

Byleth grabbed both sides of his head, and the warmth of her hands was slightly comforting. Her, “It’s going to be—” sounded far away as his mind went blank and blank and blank.   


When he became self-aware again, he was curled up with his head on Byleth’s lap, as she sat on the ground with her back propped against the couch directly behind her. They were still in the sitting room. He lifted his head and saw Ingrid, Felix, and Glenn on the couch opposite her. 

He shook the fog in his mind away in time to catch the latter part of Felix’s sentence. “—and you’re the Ashen Demon? No wonder you were able to fend off all of those men. Sylvain’s got to be the luckiest bastard in all of Fodlan.”

“I wouldn’t say the luckiest,” he dryly responded as he slowly stood up.

Ingrid put a hand over her mouth and mumbled, “That’s… disturbing.”

“You were right,” Glenn agreed as he examined Sylvain with a critical gaze, “It’s a night and day difference in his eyes and his posture. That’s so strange.”

“Are you okay?” Felix asked as he moved to kneel closer to him, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” he sighed, then looked to Byleth as he asked, “Did I do anything embarrassing this time?”

“Just the usual,” she reported with a shake of her head.

“You’re even needier as a dog,” Felix commented with a wry smirk, “I honestly didn’t think that was possible.”

“Ha ha ha,” he grumbled as he rolled his eyes, “You’re so funny.”

“Felix has a point though,” Ingrid observed as she put a hand to her chin, “When you are like that, you definitely favor her. Perhaps it’s because you were with her the first time it happened, but either way we were discussing it and we all think it would be best if she was with us until we get you changed back. It would only make things harder if the dog was agitated by Byleth being gone.”

He turned to Byleth and insisted, “You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.” He knew she basically didn’t have a choice with the fact that she was a target as well, but he could at least attempt to make sure she knew that she didn’t have to go out of her way to do this. He could probably secure a place for her to hide out here until all of this was over… probably.

“If you won’t let me go after Kronya, then I’m staying until you’re back,” she tersly replied, “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as I’m not needed, I promise.” 

“But until then,” Felix interrupted as he stood and placed a fist on his hip, “Spar with me! You sound like a worthy opponent, and I wish to test your skills with the blade.”

“Can you at least have your father heal her before you put her through hours of training?” he grumbled. “She’s been stabbed, had her arm sliced, and she’s had to travel hundreds of miles.”

“I can help?” Glenn offered with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Byleth denied with a shake of her head. “I’ve had far worse. I barely notice it at this point.”

“I want you in fighting shape so I can beat you fairly,” Felix insisted in that belligerent way of his.

Byleth snorted in amusement and quietly mumbled close to his ear, “I see what you meant.” She sighed and began shucking off her cloak as she said, “Healing would be appreciated, then.”

“She also hasn’t slept or had a real meal,” he reminded the others, especially Felix. He hardly thought sparring was what she needed right now. They’d been traveling for days now. She needed a warm bed and a filling meal, not being attacked repeatedly by Felix “I never stop training” Fraldarius.

“Stop being such a worry wart,” she chided with a shake of her head, as she took off her beat up breastplate, “Seriously, I’m a mercenary. Not everyone sleeps in a comfy bed every night.”

“You’ve barely slept at all, and when you were, it was in the cold on the ground,” he hissed. He had to sleep in her bedroll in an attempt to keep her from freezing in her sleep. Why was she being so nonchalant about this? He was derailed in his scolding when she began to finger the hem of her shirt and he quickly reminded, “Maybe not… like that!”

Her eyes widened in understanding as she let go of the bottom of her shirt. Glenn chuckled and asked, “Where are your injuries?” She motioned to below her ribs on her left side and her right arm near the curve of her shoulder. “The torso wound was the stab wound, correct?” Byleth nodded. “Let’s get that one healed up first.”

She lifted her shirt enough to unwrap her torso, and he glanced at the others as her scarred skin was revealed. He hadn’t seen it during the day like this—her skin was mostly covered at all times due to the weather—and it was somehow worse than it was near the stream. “Holy shit,” Felix murmured under his breath.

Byleth’s cheeks flushed as she glanced off to the side, “Sorry. I don’t mean to offend.”

“I told you it’s weird to see someone our age with that many scars,” he reminded in a bitter tone. The fact that their wounds were usually healed with magic also meant that any scars they did have were not nearly as gruesome-looking as some of the ones Byleth bore across her torso.

“How long have you been fighting?” Glenn asked as he moved to place his glowing hands on Byleth’s side. 

“Since I was about twelve,” she responded, hissing slightly as her wound began stitching itself back together with the healing magic. He idly wondered how often she was healed by faith magic, rather than by her crude needle and thread. Glenn primarily healed in battle, so this round of healing probably wasn’t quite as skilled as someone like Professor Manuela or Mercedes, but it would ultimately get the job done.

Glenn gritted his teeth and incredulously asked, “You’ve been traveling with a wound like this?”

“Is it bad?” Sylvain asked, realizing that was a stupid question as soon as it came out of his mouth.

“You said she was stabbed,” Felix scoffed as he crossed his arms.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Byleth argued, “She barely got the knife in before my father came down the hall and she warped away.”

“She warped away?” Glenn asked, “That means she had to have powerful mages working with her.”

“Well obviously,” Felix snorted derisively, “Sylvain’s a fucking dog.”

“Point taken, baby brother,” Glenn teased. Felix opened his mouth, probably to argue that he hated being called that—because he does—but Sylvain interrupted. He really didn’t have the necessary patience to deal with their sibling rivalry right now.

Sylvain asked, “Where is your father by the way? What did I miss?”

“He’s assembling a battalion to send to Gautier so we can warn your father of the situation,” Ingrid reported as she watched Glenn continue working on healing Byleth’s waist, “Byleth filled us in on the rest of the details, so he knew what to say.”

He turned to Byleth and asked, “You also told Rodrigue you need to be paid, right?”

“That’s not important right now,” she insisted with a firm shake, “We need to focus on getting you to… what was her name?” she asked as she looked up at Felix.

“Annette,” he answered.

“Why Annette?” Sylvain asked with a tilt of his head. She was a competent mage at the Officer’s Academy, but he didn’t think it was to the point of being able to fix him.

Felix replied, “I suggested taking you to Annette because she’s working with Hanneman and Linhardt at the Royal Institute of Sorcery in Fhirdiad. I figure if anyone can fix you, it’s probably someone there.” He shrugged and looked to Byleth, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet in anticipation of their spar.

“That’s… a good point.” He honestly hadn’t really thought that far. He was so busy worrying about getting to Fraldarius he hadn’t truly considered the next step.

Ingrid added, “Rodrigue is sending a flying battalion, so we should be hearing back from your father tomorrow. He doesn’t think we shouldn’t leave for Fhirdiad until we know your family is safe. The battalion will be ordered to keep an eye out for any hostile groups that might be near Gautier Manor.”

“If they come back with word of the mercenary group, we should go after them,” Felix challenged, “It would save us the trip to Fhirdiad, saving us what valuable time Syl has before whatever this is takes full effect. We can leave him here where it’s safe, and go after the bastards who did this.”

“That’s assuming they are even there,” Glenn retorted as he sat back on his heels and ran a hand down his face. He looked to Byleth and asked, “How do they feel?” The waist had taken Glenn a long time, signifying the severity of the wound, but her arm had been significantly faster.

She stood and bowed slightly as she replied, “That feels much better, thank you.” 

“Now you can fight me!” Felix called as he all but dragged her toward the door. Ingrid rolled her eyes as Glenn snorted in amusement. 

“Fine,” Byleth agreed, “But I’m not going easy on you just because you’re some noble’s kid. Just remember you asked to get your ass kicked.”

Felix grinned like a kid in a sweet shop as Ingrid whispered in a horror-filled tone, “Oh goddess, there’s two of them.” Glenn snickered and intertwined their fingers, making Ingrid smile softly up at him. She looked down to him as she asked, “How exactly did you manage to find the female version of Felix?”

“Bad luck, I guess,” he grumbled, watching Felix and Byleth talking animatedly a few feet in front of them as they all made their way to the training grounds just off the courtyard.

“I’ve heard tales of the Ashen Demon,” Glenn mused in a contemplative tone, “I never expected it to be a woman your age, though. She and the Blade Breaker are lauded as some of the most skilled mercenaries in all of Fodlan—not to mention some of the most good-natured. The goddess must have been looking out for you, that she was there to save you from Kronya and those men.”

“If the goddess was looking out for me, I wouldn’t be a fucking dog right now,” he argued in a sharp tone.

Ingrid nodded. “I’m with Glenn on this one—”

He rolled his eyes and grumbled, “That’s not a surprise… like… at all.” The lovey dovey duo were going to make him sick.

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “—If it had to happen, you were lucky Byleth was there when it did. She’s very kind and obviously concerned for you, which is surprising for a mercenary. Especially for a mercenary with a moniker like the Ashen Demon.”

“She didn’t choose her moniker,” he argued.

“Most mercenaries don’t,” Glenn acknowledged with a nod of his head, “Though I’m sure it’s an interesting story.”

“It’s not,” he assured Glenn, “It’s a horrifying one.” Glenn raised an eyebrow, seemingly to ask for more information, but they had finally reached the training grounds.

“Behave you two,” Glenn called in a teasingly patronizing tone, “I just patched Byleth up, so I don’t have the energy to do much more.” 

“I promise not to scar his pretty face,” Byleth teased as she walked over to choose a training sword with Felix. He wasn’t sure whether he more discomfited by awkward Byleth, or far too comfortable Byleth, when it came to being around his childhood friends. In this very moment, it seemed it was the later. Had it really only taken her an hour and a half to weasel her way into the group? Had it really only taken an hour and a half to get the others to like her enough that she felt she could tease and flirt? Seriously? Also... wasn't she saying she'd never had friends before? Where was this charisma coming from?!

“My face isn’t pretty,” Felix spluttered, his cheeks going rosy as he looked away from Byleth and stared at the training swords with far more intensity than was necessary for the menial job of picking out a training sword from the five available in their private training room.

“I mean… it kinda is,” Byleth shrugged. She walked away, doing a few practice swings with the training sword she had picked, and left a thoroughly flustered Felix behind.

“Enough flirting,” Sylvain teasingly called, “I thought you were kicking Felix’s ass.” That snapped Felix out of his flustered daze and he glared at Sylvain as Byleth laughed brightly.

“You’re hardly one to scold someone for flirting when they are supposed to be sparring,” Ingrid ribbed with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

“I just want to watch Felix get his ass kicked,” Sylvain defensively insisted.

Glenn hummed softly as his icy blue eyes watched Felix and Byleth circle each other. “I must admit, after your story, I’m excited to see how she moves, as well.”

The two sword wielders circled each other for a while, until Felix charged forward with a battle cry. He could see Byleth’s analytical stare from the other side of the room, as she defended against each of Felix’s attacks, but didn’t bother trying to perform any of her own.

It seemed that fact didn’t go unnoticed by Felix. He grunted between swings, “Are you fighting me, or not?”

He had never seen the smile that bloomed across Byleth’s face in reaction to those words, but he found that it did weird things to his stomach. The sudden difference in her fighting stance was like a crack of a Thunder spell. She suddenly picked up the pace, blocking and counterattacking Felix’s blows with ease as she backed him up, further into the small arena. Felix was getting frustrated with the ease in which she was fighting him, evidenced by the flexing in his jaw and the rage burning in his amber eyes. It surprised everyone when she dropped underneath one of Felix’s swings and kicked out his feet, sending him sprawling onto his back with an undignified yelp. 

It was even more surprising for the swordsman in question when she straddled his torso and pointed her training sword at his throat. Her casually drawled, “You noble knights are all so predictable,” broke the poor boy.

“What?!” His face was bright red as he stared up at Byleth. There was a complex array of emotions there. Sylvain thought he could pick out anger, frustration, confusion, and maybe a few other things that tended to happen when a woman that looked like Byleth straddled you. Or maybe she was getting that reaction because she had just kicked his ass with ease. He could see that being a turn on for a guy like Felix.

She raised to standing, still hovering over Felix, and held out a hand to help him up with a gentle smile. He took it was a click of his tongue, but stared intently as she explained, “You all fight similarly. I’ve noticed there’s a bit of difference depending on the territory—say Fraldarius to Gloucester—but the same point applies. You are all taught a set of rigid techniques and then you rely heavily on them. It’s enough for bandits and medium-grade fighters, but anyone with even a slight mind for tactics only has to fight you for a few minutes in order to guess what you’ll do next.”

“She’s brilliant,” Glenn muttered under his breath. Ingrid looked equally impressed with her performance and explanation. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Byleth continued with a shake of her head, “You’re a skilled fighter. You’re one of the fastest I’ve fought, and it would probably be different if you had a Crest or whatever, but—”

“I do have a Crest,” Felix argued, “The major Crest of Fraldarius.”

“Oh…” Byleth raised her eyebrows as a slight smile curved her lips, “Let’s spar again. Try and break routine a bit, let’s see if you can mix it up. Also… don’t hold back. I’ve always wanted to see how a Crest affects a fight.” 

She stepped back into a defensive position and waited patiently as Felix bent down to pick up his training sword where he had dropped it at some point. He took some deep breaths, probably to center himself after having his ass handed to him, and charged again. There was a bit of difference in what Felix was doing as he tried to attack Byleth, but it was unrefined. It looked like he was trying to mix different sword formations together in a way that didn’t work all that well. Byleth’s analytical stare was back as she defended against the attacks.

“Loosen up,” she prompted, throwing her fist toward Felix’s shoulder with enough power to make Felix stumble back slightly, “be ready for anything. Bandits are desperate, they’ll try anything to get the upper hand.” She shifted her feet and kicked some dirt up into the air, making Felix wince as he tried to fend off Byleth’s next attack and wipe the dirt out of his eyes at the same time. 

Felix gritted his teeth as he attacked with renewed vigor, and he released a battle cry as his Crest glowed in front of him. The speed that laced his attacks was too much for Byleth, or had been more than she anticipated. Felix landed a hit across her face and she flew backward, hitting the ground hard. Felix cried out, “Oh shit!” as he immediately dropped his training sword and scrambled to kneel beside her.

“Felix! Are you kidding me?!” Ingrid scolded as the three spectators all ran over to where Byleth was laid out on the ground. 

Sylvain got there first, by luxury of four legs, and he worriedly asked, “Are you alright?” Byleth was still laid out on the ground, lightly holding the right side of her face. However, he didn’t miss the goofy smile that had spread, even as she winced at the pain.

“Do it again,” she commanded with a slight slur as she tried to stand and wobbled, “I want to see if I can beat it.”

“Oh goddess,” Ingrid grumbled with an actual smack to her forehead, “there really are two of them.”

Glenn laughed, the deep sound echoing through the training grounds as he walked over to help Byleth sit back down on the ground. “Let’s make sure you aren’t concussed before you jump back in, shall we?”

In the split second where Byleth had removed her hand and Glenn hadn’t yet placed his, the obvious coloration and swelling that was already happening had him turning to Felix as he barked, “What the hell was that?”

Felix looked down at him in confusion, but it was Byleth that responded with a stern, “I asked him not to hold back. Crests are no joke. I see why they are so valued now.” 

She winced lightly and tried to move away from Glenn’s ministrations before he scolded, “You have a mild concussion. Stay still.” and resumed what he was doing. 

She looked at Sylvain with her uninjured eye and conversationally said, “The Fraldarius Crest is obviously speed so I didn’t have time to counter attack. What does yours do?”

“Interested in Crests now, are you?” he spat, and then turned to walk out of the training grounds. He heard Ingrid grumble, “I’ve got him,” before her footsteps made to follow him.

He made his way through the halls of the Fraldarius home until he was back in the sitting room, ignoring the odd looks he and Ingrid got from the servants and knights that they passed along the way. He stood at the door and waited impatiently for Ingrid to open it before stalking into the room with a huff.

“Does it require practice to be that much of an asshole?” Ingrid dryly asked, “Or does it just come naturally to you?”

“Leave me alone,” he barked. She was hardly one to lecture him about being an asshole when she was hardly kind to Byleth when the two first met. Just because she knew her a little bit now, didn’t mean she got to be all high and mighty.

“Not to put salt in the wound, but you’re in the form of a dog and you have episodes where you act like one. I can’t exactly leave you unattended,” she sighed as she sank onto the couch, “Also, what was that about? Byleth was asking you what your Crest does, why were you so rude about it?”

“She’s just another commoner woman who’s interested in my Crest,” he bitterly scoffed, “Which is hardly surprising.”

“She was interested in the battle applications,” Ingrid groaned, “She is hardly some common woman in a tavern that your preying on.”

“She was,” he spat, pacing as anger built in his chest, “That’s how we fucking met. She rejected me because I was—I AM—a fucking noble. Can you believe that?” He laughed bitterly and shook his head.

“I’m… confused,” Ingrid slowly said as she sat up to analyze him, “Are you angry that she’s interested in your Crest, or are you angry that she’s not interested in you because of your Crest?” 

“I don’t know!” he barked, “I just want to be alone. Will you just… leave?!”

“I’ve already told you I can’t do that,” Ingrid reminded with a longsuffering sigh.

“I fucking hate this. I hate all of it. I hate that I’m a fucking dog. I hate that I’m slowly losing my goddess’ damned mind. I hate that I could be a dog for the rest of my life and just cease to exist. I hate that I can’t be alone. I hate that I’m in this situation in the first place. I hate that I can’t do anything and everyone has to fix this for me. I hate ALL OF IT!” The rant seemed to spill from him as the pressure that had building in his chest over the last couple of days finally snapped. He didn’t know how much longer he could take being like this. Everything was so fucking frustrating, and he didn’t like being afraid at every second of every day. He thought it would be better when they got here, but seeing his friends being worried about him only added to the pressure and fear of not being turned back in time.

“Okay,” Ingrid cooed, getting down on her knees in front of him and putting out her hands in an attempt to placate him, “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how this feels for you, so I shouldn’t tease. Just… come here.” She pulled him into an awkward hug and he buried his head in her shoulder. 

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” he sniffled, the rage quickly burning out and leaving him with only his fear, “and I’m just so fucking terrified all the time.”

“You’re here now,” Ingrid soothed, “We’re all going to do whatever it takes to get you back.”

“That’s the worst part,” he pitifully whimpered, the annoying sound punctuating his words to the point that he wonders whether Ingrid can even understand him, “I don’t want you guys getting hurt because of the mess that I somehow made.” What if the mercenaries came after his friends now? What if one of them got hurt? Ingrid and Glenn were supposed to be planning their wedding. Ingrid should be getting fitted for a wedding dress right now, not having to watch over and worry about him.

“This isn’t your fault,” Ingrid softly chided, “The fault lies with whomever hired them to do this to you.”

He shook his head slightly from where it was buried in her shoulder. “They probably only hired Kronya because of something I did. It’s always my fault, just like every other mess you’ve had to clean up for me.”

“You may be a philanderer, and you may be a thorn in my side sometimes,” she softly teased as she ran fingers through his fur, “but you don’t deserve this. Nobody deserves this. Byleth has already said she is going to go and find the people who did this to you after you are turned back, and I plan to help her. They have to pay for what they’ve done, and they have to tell us who hired them in the first place so we can make them pay, too.”

“What if I don’t get turned back in time?” he asked in a volume barely over a whisper, “What if I’m stuck like this permanently… what if—”

“I’m not going to let that happen. None of us are,” Ingrid interrupted with a tighter squeeze. “You have people that care about you, Sylvain. You’re going to have to let us truly help you for once.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sniffled as he pulled away, trying and failing to pull himself together after his outburst, “you guys always help me.”

He wasn’t fond of Ingrid’s knowing look as she shook her head and sighed, “Whatever you say, Sylvain.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was a long one, wasn't it? I skipped a day of traveling in the interest of getting the plot really going here. Sylvain and Byleth are finally safe...ish! Hooray! 
> 
> I figure Felix is going to be slightly different as a character without all of the trauma. My thought process was that he would still develop a sharp tongue because of Glenn (he super looks up to his big brother) and he would still be training near constantly because he still has the desire to be stronger than his brother. Glenn was working as Dimitri's personal guard for a couple years, but he has moved back to Fraldarius to begin shadowing his father before he ultimately becomes Duke Fraldarius a few years after he marries Ingrid. Felix is still deciding what he wants to do. (His thought process will become a little clearer in later chapters.)
> 
> I just wanted to give some background that wasn't super easy to write into the story from Sylvain's perspective.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. As always, kudos and comments are appreciated! Have a great week, we'll see you again next weekend!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Felix have a spat, leading Sylvain to some important realizations about himself. Sylvain then comes out of an episode to bad news from Gautier territory.

There was a lone ray of sunlight streaming between a gap in the curtains, and into his eyes. It pulled him rudely into consciousness—enough to grunt softly and move a few inches so it wasn’t shining directly in his eyes, anyway. He met warm resistance, and his first instinct was to nuzzle closer. The warm resistance reacted by snuggling right back, adding to the pleasant warmth he was already feeling as he sighed and drifted back into dozing.

That is… until it occurred to him that he shouldn’t have resistance. His eyes shot open and he craned his neck to see Byleth curled up against his side. Her hair was wild with bed head, and her breathing was still even as she slept on. The question was, _why in the hell was he in bed with Byleth?!_

He remembered going to sleep at the foot of Felix’s bed, which hadn’t been too terribly weird. When they were children, they used to sleep together all the time. Sure, that was a long time ago, but sleeping in Felix’s room was better than being left in a room alone when he couldn’t even get a door open. That and none of them trusted him to be alone at any point. They all worried that one of these times he was going to have an episode and wander away. It wasn’t totally unfounded, but it was annoying all the same.

So… if he fell asleep in Felix’s bed, why in the hell was he in Byleth’s bed now? She’d been given one of the guest rooms on the other end of the Fraldarius mansion, so it’s not like he made it here by himself in his sleep. Either way, he had a feeling the answer would reflect poorly upon him.

He rolled his eyes and laid his head back down on the bed. He figured she and Felix probably already knew about it, so it wasn’t going to get any better by trying to sneak away now. And it’s not like he had the limbs necessary to be able to leave the room. Byleth sighed quietly in her sleep and he cracked an eye open to watch as her face squished comically against the pillow when she shifted slightly. He snorted softly, the fact that the terrifying mercenary looked this adorable when she slept was highly amusing to him for some reason.

He imagined Byleth was probably still exhausted from all of the training she ended up doing with the others yesterday—not even taking into account all of the travel and sleepless nights she’d had on their way here. All four of them—Byleth, Felix, Ingrid, and Glenn—had trained away the entire afternoon and into the evening, only stopping once a servant came to tell them dinner was going to be served soon so they could wash up. All three of his friends found her teaching very useful, including Glenn who was known to be the most skilled of all of them. It very quickly became obvious that she fought like a tactician, and taught like one, too. It didn’t take her long to point out the strengths and weaknesses that all three of them had, and then give pointers on what they could do to utilize or make up for those in a real fight. 

She explained that she had been helping to teach her father’s men ever since she could remember, and that she and her father both enjoyed reading over tactics manuals and creating their own formations and techniques during their travels between jobs. She had fought so many different types of battles, with so many different types of opponents, thusly every bit of information helped to fuel her ideas and strategies. Whether it was an Brigidian sword technique she picked up from a Brigid princess she’d protected once, or an axe technique she’d seen an Almyran warrior use against her father, she used all of it to her advantage. 

It was obvious that the sword was her true passion, and watching her go head-to-head with Felix and Glenn with a blade was downright captivating. However, she had the ability to pick up a lance and show Ingrid a few pointers, or pick up an axe to show what one could do against an opponent with a certain fighting style. Felix was in heaven, rambling on about the fact that she would put the knowledge of all three of their former professors at the Officer’s Academy to shame at the age of twenty-one. (He also learned that she was twenty-one, a little less than a year older than he was.) She was bashful in the face of his best friend’s praises, stating that she had her father to teach her everything he knew, and she had only added her own experiences from there.

Rodrigue had come into the training room in the late afternoon to inform them that the flying battalion had been sent, and they were expected back by evening of the next day unless there were dire circumstances. He ended up staying to watch with Sylvain as the others tried certain techniques on the training dummies, or sparred in the center of the small dirt arena. He had never been one for training, it was really more his friends’ preferred hobby, but he had to admit that he had been feeling a bit… left out. 

Byleth was in the middle of giving Felix some pointers in footwork for a specific sword technique when Lord Rodrigue commented, “It’s almost a shame her skills are being wasted as a wandering mercenary. Given time, I’m sure she’d make a valuable knight’s captain, or perhaps a personal guard.” He fell silent for a moment, and Sylvain thought he might be finished. Instead, he soon added, “Perhaps I should reach out to His Majesty.”

“Why?” Sylvain couldn’t help the apprehension that slipped into his tone.

“Well, there are many reasons,” the older man mused as he lightly stroked his facial hair, a habit he’d had since they were children, “Not the least of them being that I’m sure His Highness would like to know of your current condition since we are traveling to Fhirdiad. Though, I also feel it is vital that they know of what is happening from a political standpoint. An attack has been made on the heir of one of the most powerful houses in the Kingdom of Faerghus, by an enemy we are completely unaware of.” 

The seriousness in his expression melted into one of mirth as Byleth landed a front kick to Felix’s abdomen, sending the young swordsman sprawling onto his back with a string of curses. “Also, I believe Byleth could be an asset to the Kingdom of Faerghus, if she wished to be. I’d say offering her an opportunity to be more than just a wandering mercenary would be a decent reward for all that she has sacrificed, wouldn’t you say?”

“I doubt she’d leave her father,” he murmured as he watched Byleth laugh at something Felix said, the raven-haired young man’s face twisted with a scowl, even if amber eyes still glowed with the thrill of whatever challenge Byleth had presented him with.

Lord Rodrigue hummed contemplatively. “Perhaps you are correct. However, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to offer.”

He must have dozed off again, because when he woke up next, it was to Byleth’s movements as she too woke up. She rolled onto her back and stretched her arms above her head with a small groan, her joints popping in several places as she stretched. She flopped back into the bed as her limbs went slack, and she sighed with a pleasant smile on her face. “I think this might be the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept on,” she quietly commented, before turning to him with a smug smile and saying, “Morning, Yippy.”

“Yippy?” he groaned, burying his face in the pillow beneath him.

“Felix is going to be extremely displeased with you this morning,” she chuckled as she rolled to face him, “I just thought I’d give you a heads up.”

His words were muffled by the pillow as he whined, “What did I do now?”

“You must have woken up when you had an episode, because you started barking at the door until Felix eventually got out of bed. He brought you here, probably in an effort to dump the problem onto me, and you calmed right down.” She chuckled with a small shake of her head. “He was VERY grumpy about being waken up.”

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned in embarrassment. There was going to be so much teasing in his near future, he just knew it. Byleth laughed at his pain, like the merciless person she was, and then rolled onto her back and tucked her hands behind her head.

“Your friends are pretty great,” she whispered, something faraway in her gaze, “I can see why you are so fond of them.” It struck him that yesterday might have been considered fun for her. His friends had almost immediately accepted her, even if it was only on the basis of learning from her. It was almost like having friends of her own, even if it was temporary. He wasn’t sure why that thought made him feel so sad.

He half-heartedly grumbled, “We grew up together, we didn’t have much choice in the matter.”

She turned her head toward him with an amused glint in her eye. “Well… you lucked out then.”

“Everyone keeps saying I’m lucky,” he wearily sighed, “but I don’t feel very lucky.” She raised an eyebrow in question and he grumbled, “Apparently you are my knight in shining armor. I believe Glenn’s exact words were that the goddess was watching over me that you were in that tavern.”

She laughed at that, her eyes crinkling at the corners with obvious amusement. “Oh, I’m no knight in shining armor. I’m certainly not a blessing from the goddess, either. I’m just a wandering mercenary, and luckily I was in the right place at the right time.”

“Were you?” he asked, the words slipping off his tongue before he could stop himself.

Deep pools of blue flitted to him as she asked, “What do you mean?” 

“Were you in the right place at the right time? You are in danger, your father might be in danger, and it’s all because…” he cleared his throat as a rush of emotion struck him, “It’s because of me.”

Her eyes softened as she rolled to face him. She put out a hand to touch him, froze for a split-second with her hand hovering over his head, before eventually giving in and scratching near his ear. He realized that it should probably feel demeaning, like she was treating him like a dog, but he honestly didn’t mind the contact. He’d always liked it when people played with his hair, anyway, so this wasn’t too far off. 

“I’m glad I could help you,” was her only reply.

His eyes slipped closed as he whispered, “I don’t deserve it.”

Her hand stilled on his head and he kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see whatever expression she was making. She sat up on the bed, and his heart raced as he wondered if she was going to go get ready or something, and leave him here on the bed. Alone. Instead, she draped her torso lightly over him as she enveloped him a hug. She whispered back, “Sure you do.”

He only allowed himself to enjoy the mock embrace for a moment before he blurted out, “Do you like being a mercenary?”

She pulled back, and he immediately missed her warmth. She seemed to contemplate it for a moment before she answered, “I don’t know… I suppose? It’s all I’ve ever known.” She met his gaze as she teased, “Why? Thinking of making a lifestyle change?”

He could almost picture it, a life away from the nobility, away from the prying eyes and the falsely flattering words. He could almost picture a life with Byleth and her crew, traveling and seeing the continent. No longer struggling with the pressures of nobility and duty, and finally having the opportunity to do what he wished. No “blushing bride” that would only marry him for his name and his Crest--perhaps even finding someone that he would choose, and someone who chose him. His rational brain told him he’d probably hate that life. He was accustomed to the life of ease and comfort that came with the pressures, so he pushed the pictures away before he could have too much time to dwell on them. Besides, there was no use wishing for something he could never have.

“Perhaps if I had been braver—if I would have had the guts it required,” he paused and looked away from Byleth’s intense gaze, “If I thought I could have escaped, I might have tried. Maybe then I could have left House Gautier behind… left behind the life of a nobleman and anyone who knew I had a Crest.”

She laid back down on her side and softly asked, “You would have wanted to?”

“It’s… complicated,” he confessed, turning his head to look toward her legs, bent underneath him on the bed. “I think that even if I had tried, my father would have scoured all of Fodlan until he found me and dragged me back to Gautier territory.”

“I know of a lot of places outside of Fodlan where you would never be found,” she joked, though when he glanced at her face, he had a sneaking suspicion she would risk it to help him if he truly asked. Damn her and her selfless tendencies.

He chuckled softly, the sound almost pitifully sad, and shook his head. “It’s not just that. There’s a reason that House Gautier values their Crest so much. Our family’s Relic, The Lance of Ruin, is invaluable when it comes to protecting the border to the Kingdom. The land we inhabit has been contested for centuries, and it falls to our family to protect it from would-be invaders. One day… it will become my duty to protect it.”

“That’s a big responsibility,” she murmured, her features a mixture of sympathy and contemplation. 

“It is,” he solemnly agreed.

She was silent for a moment before she hesitantly asked, “Is that why you hate your Crest so much? Due to all of the responsibility that falls to you because of it?” A small growl sounded in the back of his throat as his body tensed, without him really meaning it to. “Never mind,” she quickly said as she sat up and began moving off the bed, obviously made uncomfortable by his reaction, “Forget I said anything. I should probably get dressed so I can—”

“No,” he quietly interrupted, stopping her in her tracks, “that’s not why I hate it so much. I understand why it’s important, believe me I do. But…” she glanced back at him with wide and curious eyes, but he chickened out. He shook his head as he grumbled, “It’s complicated.” She nodded, and he noticed a small frown pull at her lips before she turned away. 

“It’s okay,” she murmured as she walked over to her pack, “I probably wouldn’t understand, anyway. I’m just a mercenary, right?”

Lord Rodrigue’s words echoed in his head as she began pulling off the sleep clothes Glenn had loaned her, and he asked, “Do you ever want to be something different?”

She stalled as she pulled her shirt over her head and asked, “What do you mean?”

“I could… help you,” he hesitantly offered, “if you wanted me to. Lord Rodrigue brought it up yesterday and…”

“Brought up what?” she asked as she pulled a long-sleeved grey tunic over her head and slipped her arms through the sleeves.

He explained, “That you are very skilled, and you would be a great asset to the Kingdom of Faerghus if you wanted to be something more.”

“Be something more than a lowly wandering mercenary, you mean?” she droned, feigning indifference even with something sharp and challenging in her gaze.

“That’s not what I—”

“I’m hungry,” she interrupted, running her hands over her clothes in a hopeless attempt to smooth the multitude of wrinkles in them from being squished in her pack, “Do you think I could get some breakfast from the kitchens if I asked?”

“Wait,” he snapped, jumping off the bed and placing himself between her and her beeline to the door, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” she argued, crossing her arms firmly over her chest, “I know what you think of me and my line of work. I get it, it’s fine. Except for the fact that it’s my life, and it’s the way I provide for myself and my father. You may fight wars with your Relic and look over a whole territory’s worth of people, but I try to look after the people I care about. I get that my livelihood is disgusting and common and whatever, but you don’t have to look at the things I do with such contempt.” 

He scoffed, “Is that what you are assuming I think of you? Really?!”

“Isn’t it?” she challenged, with one eyebrow raised in a look that felt slightly dangerous. “You’ve made it very clear that you think I’m only here for the paycheck. You’ve tried to send me away at multiple points, and have even threatened to not pay me at all for my services when I’ve displeased you.”

“I didn’t mean that,” he argued, anger flaring in his chest, “I was always going to pay you.”

“That’s not the point,” she cried as she fisted her hands at her sides, “It’s like you don’t even think I have the capacity to care about…" she shook her head and cut herself off before quickly saying, “…about your situation. It’s like you think none of this means anything to me.” She waved a hand between them before dropping it back to her side. “I may be a mercenary, but I can still care about my clients. I can still want to know about the things that bother you because we’re both human beings. I can still want to help, even if I’m just a mercenary.”

The anger drained from him so quickly that he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Instead of teasing her, or brushing it off like he would in any other situation, he stood there, gaping at her like a fool. Had she just… was she going to say she cared about him? What did she mean? Just… as a client? As a friend? What was she going to say?! 

When a knock sounded at the door, she brushed a hand through her hair as she walked around him to open it.

“Hey!” Felix greeted as soon as the door opened, “I came to grab you in case you wanted some breakfast. I thought we could eat and then train some more. I really want to learn that Finesse Blade technique you showed me yesterday.”

“Sure,” she chuckled, “I’m glad you came. I’m absolutely _starving_.” She emphasized the last word with her head tilted up as her eyes rolled slightly back, an overly dramatic reaction that he had never seen her do before. It was ironic that it was something he could see himself doing.

“Well, that’s an easy problem to fix, idiot,” his childhood friend snickered with a rolling of his eyes, “Come on. You too, Barky.” Felix shot a teasing look his direction, but he bowed his head to avoid eye contact. He was not feeling very playful at the moment. If Felix noticed, he was kind enough to leave it alone.  


Ingrid and Glenn joined them in the dining room, and he sat silently at Felix’s feet. When they were around the servants, he had to act like a regular dog—a fact that suited him just fine at the moment, because it meant he could brood over his conversation with Byleth without drawing any attention to himself. 

“Training again today?” Glenn teased from his seat beside Ingrid. From Sylvain's spot on the floor, he could see the elder Fraldarius brother’s hand resting on Ingrid's thigh, his thumb lightly brushing along it as they ate their food.

“Being obnoxious again today?” Felix bantered right back in a mocking tone.

Glen playfully complained, “Actually, Ingrid’s stuck with the dressmaker for most of the day, and she won’t let me tag along. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m doing today.”

“Yes, you are such a victim because I’m depriving you of the experience of watching some woman prick me with pins and take my measurements all day,” Ingrid grumpily replied. He was sympathetic to her plight—it sounded like her worst nightmare.

“Sylvain told me you guys were getting married soon,” Byleth chimed into the conversation, “How long have you two been engaged?”

Felix snorted, “Since Ingrid was born.” Byleth’s reaction must have been entertaining because it earned a snicker from the swordsman.

“Not quite that long,” Ingrid said in a tone that told Sylvain she was most likely glaring at Felix, “Though our marriage was arranged when we were both very young.”

“Is that… common?” Byleth hesitantly asked. “I work with nobles fairly often, but I’ll admit I hardly pay attention to the… intricacies… of what you guys are born into.” Felix snorted in amusement again, presumably at the way she worded it. He wondered if being around his friends was finally making her see that being a noble wasn’t all about the mansions and the luxury… though it was a big part of it.

Glenn explained, “Houses Fraldarius and Galatea have had close ties since Galatea branched off of House Daphnel from the Alliance. House Galatea’s territory has frequently struggled with resources, so a formal union was proposed by our parents when we were still very young as a way to cement a partnership between the territories.”

“Oh,” Byleth muttered softly, “You guys seem… friendly… though? So, that’s good… right?” 

Glenn laughed good-naturedly, and squeezed Ingrid thigh, making her startle slightly. “We’re fortunate in that we were also friends, so feelings evolved over time.”

Felix made a noise like he was going to be sick and grumbled, “Which really means I’ve had to deal with their lovey dovey nonsense for most of my life.”

Byleth inquired, “Are you betrothed to someone, as well?”

“No, thank the goddess,” Felix said in relieved sigh, “I’d like to see the old man try.”

“Now that’s an idea,” Glenn mused in a teasing tone, “Perhaps I should talk to dear old dad about setting something up for you. It might get you out of the training room, at least.”

“Don’t you dare,” Felix growled threateningly, “The old man would probably listen to you, Mister Favorite Son.”

“What’s wrong with doing a lot of training?” Byleth chirped.

“Thank you!” Felix exclaimed. Sylvain could practically hear Ingrid’s eyes rolling from his place under the table. Felix firmly added, “There is nothing wrong with my pursuit of becoming stronger.”

“Stronger for what, Felix?” Glenn countered, not in an abrasive way, but in what sounded to him like genuine curiosity. 

Felix bristled. “Why do you think that the pursuit of strength simply for the thrill of the challenge is such a bad thing?” 

“The challenge is all well and good,” Byleth interjected through a mouth of food, “though you may find it doesn’t provide the drive you truly need to achieve your goals.”

“You too?” Felix whined, planting his elbows on the table and putting his head in his hands.

“Sorry,” Byleth murmured, going quiet.

“Why do you feel that way?” Ingrid asked, before politely adding, “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Byleth was quiet for a moment before she hesitantly explained herself. “I guess I can’t fully relate to any of you because I’m a mercenary, so I have to train as hard as I can because otherwise, I’ll die.” Tension settled over the room as everyone went quiet. Sylvain shut his eyes as his blood ran cold. 

“Every day I fight like it’s my last, though I understand that’s not really an issue for the three of you. I do run into this issue with some of my father’s men at times, though. They become overly confident, or lax in their training due to laziness. Finding what drives them, whether it be gold, success, or a desire to serve those we help, is vital when it comes to being a warrior. My father always says you have to find that hunger, you have to find what drives you—only then can you truly become the fighter you want to be. You can pursue strength to your heart’s content, but I think Glenn has a point in asking why you want that strength.”

Felix hummed, “I think I’d like fighting with you and your father,” sounding as if he was actually considering it. Alarm rushed through Sylvain at the very idea.

“You might,” Byleth agreed in a casual tone, like she wasn’t fueling a dangerous desire in Felix. He decided that Felix and Byleth were too alike, so it made them dangerous together. Maybe it was a terrible idea bringing Byleth here, after all.

“You can’t be serious,” Ingrid sharply objected. Sylvain immediately made the decision to stay firmly out of it as Felix coiled like a spring about to burst in his seat.

“And why not?” Felix argued, in a challenging tone. 

“His Highness has offered you Glenn’s old position,” Ingrid very nearly shouted, before quickly lowering her voice as she continued, “You would turn that down to be a _wandering mercenary_?” Her voice was full of derision, proving that for all that she respected Byleth’s skill, she still didn’t think highly of her profession. Perhaps that was why Byleth said the things she did earlier this morning.

“Maybe I want something other than living my life in my perfect older brother’s shadow,” Felix countered, “Maybe I want to explore the world and fight, building on my skills until I decide I want to settle down. I don’t see what’s wrong with that idea.”

“Are you really not going to chime in on this?” Ingrid scolded, probably glaring at Glenn. He actually wondered what the older Fraldarius’ features showed, but he figured he wouldn’t be able to check without drawing attention to himself, and he did not want to get pulled into the argument. Especially not when he was fondly picturing what his life could be like if he ran away to join Byleth’s troop earlier this morning.

“Felix isn’t bound by the same duties we are,” Glenn stated matter-of-factly. “If he doesn’t have to do things the way we have to, why should he?” There was a bit of something that sounded like longing in his tone, and Sylvain wondered what Glenn would do if he had choices like Felix does. Perhaps it was something the older Fraldarius brother had considered, even if he was in love with Ingrid and felt his duty was a worthwhile endeavor. 

“But a _mercenary_?” Ingrid raved, “When he has the opportunity to serve as His Highness’ knight?” 

“Not everyone views knighthood the way you do,” Felix practically hissed, “I’m sorry you don’t get to fulfill your dream, but that doesn’t mean you get to push your ambitions onto me.” He pushed roughly back from the table, startling Sylvain to scramble to all four paws, and muttered, “I’m done talking about this, I’m going to train. Would you like to come?” Sylvain could only assume he was talking to Byleth.

“Sure,” Byleth agreed, her tone suggesting that she _did indeed_ realize that she’d just stuck her foot in the pile of horse shit that made up the complexities of living life as a noble. Sylvain would feel vindicated, though he suspected that she was just trying to be helpful, just like she always was.

As they walked out Byleth said, “I’m going to use the washroom. I think I can find the training room from the room I’m staying in.”

“Alright,” Felix grumbled, his mood obviously still sour after his conflict with Ingrid, “I’ll meet you there.”

They walked in silence to the training room, where as soon as they walked in, Felix began beating up a poor defenseless dummy. He laid down a few feet away (for his own safety) and teased, “You’re welcome.”

“What are you talking about?” Felix hissed, still swinging his sword at the dummy.

“I’m just glad my misfortune has brought about at least one good thing,” he shrugged.

Felix stopped with an irritated roll of his eyes. “What are you on about now?”

“I’ve brought you the girl of your dreams!” he exclaimed, false cheer thick in his tone. The instinct to plaster on his usual grin was strong, but he doubted it conveyed the same sense of nonchalance as a dog.

“Byleth?” Felix snorted, his eyebrows knotting in the middle.

“Yes, Byleth,” he insisted, “She’s beautiful, she can kick your ass with ease, she can teach you how to get stronger… Tell me that’s not all you’ve ever wanted in a woman. And I’ve brought her straight to your doorstep! You’re welcome!”

“If you like her so much, you marry her,” Felix shrugged. He couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound of it riddled with bitterness, enough to make amber eyes flit to his as Felix dropped his sword arm back to his side. “What?” the swordsman sternly asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” he chuckled, the urge to wipe a fake tear away was tempting but he knew it wouldn’t have the same affect like this, “that was just… _hilarious_.”

“I don’t see how what I said was funny,” Felix scoffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s obvious you like her.”

“I don’t _like_ her,” he growled, his body tensing.

“Sure,” Felix drawled, “that’s why you try to defend her all the time and why you practically sing her praises.”

“She saved my life,” he countered, “it’s hard not to sing someone’s praises when they’ve done what Byleth has for me. And it’s not like you don’t get all starry-eyed when it comes to training with her.”

“I enjoy training,” Felix shrugged, looking almost bored with their conversation, “I’m interested in her technique, and her drive. She could teach me a lot, and I was serious about being interested in joining her mercenary group. I think it could be something I’m truly interested in. Don’t be like Ingrid and project all of your shit onto me.”

“Project all of my shit?” Sylvain chuckled mirthlessly.

Felix scowled and looked back toward the dummy. “Ingrid wants me to go and be a knight at Castle Blaiddyd because that’s her dream, and she doesn’t get to fulfill it because she has to marry Glenn and be a nobleman’s wife. Don’t get me wrong, I wish she could follow her ambitions and still do her duty to her household as she so obviously wants to, but I won’t do something just because she doesn’t get to.”

He bitterly asked, “And what is it you think I am projecting?” 

“You actually like Byleth,” his childhood friend enunciated each word like Sylvain was a child that needed his hand held in order to understand the words. “You’re projecting your feelings for her onto me on the basis of she fights well so I must be as in love with her as you are.” The swordsman snorted and rolled his eyes, amused.

“I don’t…” he started to object, only for Felix to level him with a piercing gaze. It flooded him with startling clarity that Felix, the man who can’t see past the edge of his sword most days, is _right_. He likes her. He likes Byleth. He likes the wandering mercenary—strong, brave, and protective. He likes her breathy chuckles, and the amused glint in her eyes when he inevitably does something stupid. He likes that she cares so goddess damned much, even when she doesn’t have any particular reason to. He likes the way she hums when she’s distracted, the way she nibbles her lip when she’s nervous, and the fire in her eyes when she’s determined to do something. He likes that she’s so damn dependable, and that she’s quickly become someone that he wants to trust.

And that shit is _terrifying._

How in the hell did he let this happen? Sure, he thought she was attractive—that was the reason he tried to pick her up in the tavern in the first place. He was no stranger to feelings, they flickered sometimes, even for him, but that was just a flicker. It had never been like this. He had never _ached_ to hold someone like he had that first night he slept in Byleth’s bedroll. He had never worried for someone’s safety and well-being as he constantly was with her—other than for Felix, Ingrid, or Dimitri, maybe. He’d never been so outright defensive about someone as he had been when his friends treated her like she wasn’t even there yesterday. He’d never loathed the fact that he had built the façade he’d been working on for years as much as he had over the last handful of days—ever since Byleth had called him out on his bullshit that night by the fire.

How did he let Byleth get past his defenses like this? How did he let this consume him as much as it has? How? Why? 

Then the answer hit him like a kick to the stomach, punching the air from his lungs. He’s falling in love with Byleth because if she loved him, it would have to be for him. Like this, he’s nothing but himself. He can’t fall back on his looks, his name, his Crest. (Not that any of that stuff appeals to her anyway. She’d flat out told him it was the reason she rejected him in the first place.) He can’t fall back on a mask like he normally does… He’s a fucking dog! Everything she’s seen, the Sylvain that she’s gotten to know over the last few days, is the closest he’s been to himself since… well, since childhood. If she cared for him like this… it would mean that it was real. If she cared for him like this, it would be in spite of everything that everyone usually tried to use him for.

But she couldn’t… that wasn’t possible.

He sighed in defeat and looked down at the floor. “In case you haven’t noticed… I’m a dog, Fe.” Suddenly this all felt like too much, like there was a physical weight on his shoulders dragging him down.

“You won’t always be,” Felix supplied, his tone slightly softer in the face of his admittance, “You’ll be back to your annoyingly charming self after we get you to Fhirdiad.”

“We don’t know that!” he cried, the pathetic sound echoing through the training hall, “And even if I do get changed back, I could never…” he chuckled brokenly and shook his head, “I could never be with her. She’s not interested in someone like me, and my father… he’d never allow it even if she was.” 

Even the thought of what his father would do or say to Byleth if Sylvain broached the subject sent a shudder through his body. He could almost hear the condescending, _“You can have your whores as soon as you secure a wife. I don’t care if you stray from your marriage bed, as long as you do your duty in it._ ” He could never do something like that to her. 

Goddess, he really was in deep.

“So, you’re suggesting I fall in love with her for you? To what? Make yourself miserable?” Felix accused, his tone as sharp as his blade.

“I… I don’t know,” he wearily sighed, “You guys are like… scary alike. If you could be happy together, I thought—”

Felix’s eyes narrowed as he gritted out, “You thought that as long as everyone else was happy you’d be happy? Just like you always do?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t do that!” 

“You do,” Felix angrily insisted, “You push your own happiness to the side, and you tell yourself that sleeping with all of those women is your taste of freedom until you’re chained to someone you hate for the rest of your life.” Sylvain glared, but before he could deny it, Felix ranted on, “Except you aren’t even fighting for yourself, you never do. You just lay down and take it like a complete fool!”

That crossed an unspoken line. He growled, “I don’t think we’re talking about Byleth anymore.”

“It’s always the same thing with you!” the raven-haired swordsman bellowed, and then in a terrible Sylvain impression he jeered, “I finally found someone I actually like who might look at me as an actual human being rather than just my name and Crest, but I’m going to try and get Felix to marry her because I enjoy punishing myself for goddess knows what!”

“Punishing myself?” he barked in a laugh, “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

“I think that’s what you’ve been doing our entire lives,” Felix accused, amber eyes sharp as steel.

“I’m not…” his retort died in his throat as haziness swept over his mind like a wave breaching a vessel on stormy waters. He wasn’t sure if it was true, but it felt like it was more intense this time. His tongue wouldn’t work to tell Felix what was happening, and he couldn’t even support his own weight anymore. He tumbled to the ground, causing Felix to immediately throw his sword down and run to his side. He distantly felt Felix’s hand on his head, but the image of his best friend’s lips moving as he said something was fuzzy. 

He stared into worried amber eyes as his mind went blank and blank and blank.

There was a definite difference this time as he slowly became self-aware. It felt like trying to wake up after a sleep spell, when the magic isn’t fully out of your system yet. He swam through the murkiness of his own mind as he heard voices, trying to focus on what they were saying.

“—time to waste!” Felix was yelling, his tone betraying his fury even when Sylvain couldn’t see him yet. He couldn’t seem to get his eyes to open, which was troubling.

“The Margrave has insisted that this is how we handle the situation,” Lord Rodrigue insisted in a forcefully calm tone, “My hands are tied on the matter. I am sorry, my son.”

“That’s bullshit!” Felix bellowed, “The Margrave doesn’t give a damn about Sylvain, WE DO!”

He finally managed to pry open his eyes, and the first thing he noticed was that his head was in Byleth’s lap again. The dog’s fixation on her was really starting to become bothersome. Was it because she was the first person it happened in front of? Did the dog think of Byleth as its owner or something? Or… was it because of his feelings for her? Was there still a piece of him in there, even when he wasn’t really him?

Byleth was holding her head in her hands, with a grimace twisting her beautiful features as she listened to the Fraldarius father and son bicker. His heart began to hammer against his ribs at their close proximate, which was extremely annoying. 

As soon as she noticed he was himself again, she folded over on top of him, effectively squishing him in a hug for a second time that day. “You’re alright,” she sighed in relief.

“What’s going on…” he slurred, still having to fight somewhat to be able to focus. Looking around, he realized they were back in the sitting room. He wondered how long the episode had been this time.

“Sylvain?” Lord Rodrigue called his name, and Byleth sat up so he could see the Lord of Fraldarius as he walked over to kneel down in front of him. “One of my messengers came back from speaking with your father. He’s sent Miklan with a battalion of Gautier knights to take you to the Royal Institute of Sorcery in our stead. My flying battalion is escorting them down here as we speak, so they should be here some time tomorrow evening, and you will be able to leave for Fhirdiad the following day.”

“M-Miklan?” he stammered, stuck on that one point of whatever Lord Rodrigue had just said. “Why can’t I go with you guys?”

Lord Rodrigue’s face fell as he looked down at him with obvious sympathy. “The Margave has expressly explained that he does not wish for House Fraldarius to be… burdened… any further with this.” The word burdened came out in a reluctant but pointed way, and Sylvain immediately imagined what it was his father had written. _“House Fraldarius should not be burdened by my lazy, no-good heir’s problems any longer.”_ It was probably something along those lines, anyway.

Byleth’s body tensed beneath him, and it was only then that he realized he was still in her lap. He slowly stood and forced himself to cheerily reply, “Gautier Knights are the fastest in the Kingdom. I’m sure father is just eager to get me to Fhirdiad.”

“This is BULLSHIT!” Felix raged from the other corner of the room, his face contorted with displeasure as a vein pulsed in his forehead, “How do we know it’s not Miklan who hired Kronya and her rabble in the first place? How do we know this isn’t a trap?!” Byleth looked to Felix and then to him, her gaze scrutinizing.

“Are you truly suggesting that Miklan could have been the one who ordered his own brother to be turned into a dog?” Lord Rodrigue groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He’s a sick fuck who’s never had a problem torturing Sylvain,” Felix angrily spat, “So yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” Byleth made a low noise in the back of her throat as her eyes narrowed. Perhaps she was putting together the pieces of the puzzle, slowly figuring all of it out without him flat out telling her. She’d already suspected Miklan wasn’t the greatest after his nightmare, but she had never brought it up again after he rudely told her to drop the subject.

“It’ll be fine, Fe,” he cooed in effort to calm the raging swordsman down, “My father’s knights will be there. He can’t do anything risky like that with them around. Besides, there are a lot of people who would want to do something like this to me, there is no guarantee it’s Miklan.” 

Even after all this time… even after everything Miklan had done to him… he couldn’t let himself believe that his own brother would curse him to a fate like this. He couldn’t.

“I’m going with you,” Felix insisted while he pointed finger in his direction, “whether Miklan wants me to or not.”

“If it will put you at ease, I see no trouble in that,” Lord Rodrigue said with a sigh, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must get back to my study.”

As soon as Lord Rodrigue had left the room, he dropped back down to the ground with a weary sigh. For the hundredth time he wondered how exactly his life had come to this point. “Are you okay?” Byleth softly asked, scratching near his ear in a way that made him want to pant and melt into her, “That was a lot longer than the last one.”

“How long?” he asked, trying to focus on pleasant scratches rather than the terrible news that was apparently coming in a one-two punch today.

“Two and a half hours,” she whispered, her tone heavy as he turned his face away from her. He hated the pity in her eyes.

“They are getting worse,” he murmured, staring unseeing into the distance, “I couldn’t warn Felix this time, and… coming back… waking up… it isn’t as easy as it once was.”

Quickened footsteps came toward him until Felix dropped to his knees on his other side. “We need to get you to Fhirdiad,” his childhood friend fretted, going as far as putting a hand on his back, “Let’s go right now! Screw your father… Screw my father! All that matters is getting you back to normal.”

“Felix and I will take you,” Byleth agreed with a firm nod of her head. “We made it all the way here with just the two of us, I’m sure Felix and I can get you to Fhirdiad safely. It’s less than a half-day’s journey, right? Why wait? We don’t know how much longer you have.”

_“The noble boy’s days as anything other than a lowly mutt are numbered.”_

“My father would be furious,” he sighed, letting his eyes slip closed so he wouldn’t have to look into deep pools of blue or fiery amber, “We have to play this his way.”

“Why?” Byleth asked, her voice low as her fingers curled in his fur.

He wearily explained, “Because that’s how my father works. He has to have control over everything, especially when it comes to me.”

“But he’s sending your brother,” she angrily countered, her voice rising in volume with each word, “Why wouldn’t he come himself if control is what he’s after? Why wouldn’t he come himself when he heard his son had been turned into a dog in the first place?!” She’d switched from pity to righteous indignation, it seemed. Yay.

“He has to have control,” Sylvain bitterly chuckled, “It doesn’t mean he truly cares about any of it.”

She huffed an exasperated breath and growled, “Your father sounds like a real asshole.” 

What was it she had said to him? _“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”_ He met her gaze as he sneered, “I have to get it from somewhere, don’t I?” Something ugly and gross inside him was writhing, trying to get out. It fed on the simmering anger that had started as soon as Rodrigue said the word “burdened”, because that was truly all his father felt when it came to him. He was a burden, a nuisance, good-for-nothing but passing on his Crest.

“Enough,” Byleth snapped, making him chuckle mirthlessly, “Why are you following his orders if you think he doesn’t care about you?”

“Oh, he cares,” he crooned, his voice like silk even as contempt burned in his throat, “He cares that his precious studhorse can’t produce a Crest-bearing child when he’s a dog. He cares that I can’t go home and choose an eligible bride so I can do my due diligence as a son of House Gautier while I’m like this. If he gets me changed back, who really cares? Certainly not me.”

Byleth’s jaw clenched so tightly it looked painful. Through clenched teeth she hissed, “If you need me, I’ll be in the training room.” She rolled to her feet and left the room without looking at him. The door slammed shut behind her, the sound loud enough to make him wince.  


“You honestly think she doesn’t care about you?” Felix snorted, shaking his head as he looked at the door where Byleth had exited, “You’re a damned fool. Probably the biggest in all of Fodlan.”

He bitterly scoffed, “I thought I was the luckiest bastard in all of Fodlan.” He found that the ugly and gross feeling was dying down in the face of the possibility, simmering the anger as it went. It left behind an unpleasant ache, reminiscent to the night he first wanted to hold Byleth to keep her warm.

“You can be lucky and still be a damned fool,” Felix teased with a light shove to his side, “It doesn’t seem possible, but you are living proof of it. I can’t argue with facts.”

“She shouldn’t care,” he whispered, “It will only make all of this worse if she does.”

Felix pointedly asked, “Worse for whom?”

He took a steadying breath before answering. “Her. Me. Everyone. It just makes it all worse.” 

She couldn’t possibly care about him, even the thought made something twist and ache inside him. She doesn’t like nobles. She likes those that are genuine and kind. She deserves someone brave, someone kind, someone who would be able to make her happy. She deserves more than something like him… so she couldn’t care about him. He wouldn’t let her.

Felix shook his head, still incredulous about the whole thing. “Why? I’d think it’d be nice to have someone like Byleth care about you. She’s strong, capable, not hard to look at…”

“Will you promise me something?” he interrupted, moving to stand so they were looking into each other’s eyes. He didn’t want to talk about how it would be nice for someone like Byleth to care about him, he already knew that.

“We already made a promise,” Felix challenged, his eyes narrowing to a point that Sylvain could see the defensiveness he was putting up in the face of what the swordsman probably guessed was coming.

“If I have to break our promise,” he reluctantly started, Felix immediately opened his mouth to hiss a retort but he shook his head firmly as he quickly continued, “I don’t want to… but if I do, will you just… try to make sure she’s okay? Like… look out for her? Please?”

“You’re going to be fine,” Felix growled, “We’re getting you to Annette and she and her colleagues are going to fix you.”

“Just in case,” he pleaded, emotion choking him, “Please… just… if they can’t. Please.”

“We’re not talking about this,” Felix shook his head fervently, “I’m going to get you turned back to normal and you can look out for her by your damned self.” 

“Fe… Fe, please!” Felix was no longer listening to him. His amber eyes were stormy as he quickly got to his feet and headed toward the door.

“Are you coming or not?” the swordsman spat, holding the door open for him. He sat on his haunches and stared down at the floor, that damned whimper sound slipping through before he could stop it. Felix clicked his tongue in frustration before slamming the door behind him, just as Byleth had.

Perhaps it would be better if no one cared about him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... this is becoming angstier than I thought it would be. Haha oops. 
> 
> I figured that Ingrid would be the person who disliked mercenaries the most out of the Faerghus four (five?), purely due to her ideas about knighthood. I understand that part of her mindset about knighthood is because of Glenn's death in the game, but I think Ingrid would have still had similar ambitions even if he hadn't been brutally murdered in the Tragedy. I can see her wishing that she had the choice to run off and be a knight, but deciding against it because she loves Glenn and does want to fulfill her duty as a Crested heir.
> 
> Have a good week! Stay safe, and stay sane!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! Yesterday ended up being crazy busy for me, so I didn't have time to do the necessary editing to get this posted.

It was an odd experience to wake up and realize that his body had already woken up some time ago—if he could even consider this his body. He wasn’t sure exactly when it had happened, but his current form now felt natural. Gone were the days where he tripped over four legs and struggled to do the basic things like eat or relieve himself. Now everything was second nature. It was terrifying whenever he dwelt on it for too long, so he actively tried not to.

He slowly swam back into awareness to find he was in the training room, laying down on the cool stone that lined the dirt arena of the facilities. He noticed for the millionth time that the Fraldarius family’s training room bore a layout that was remarkably similar to the one at the monastery, and he idly wondered if that was part of the reason that Felix had spent so much of their time at school in there.

After a few minutes of internal struggle, he finally managed to lift his head so he could watch Felix and Byleth as they danced around one another, struggling slightly to keep up with them as he fought to keep focused. The sound of their wooden training swords crashing against each other reverberated through the mostly stone room, punctuated by the occasional shout of exertion, triumph, or frustration. Byleth’s soothing voice called out instruction, even as she lashed out with a punch, an elbow strike, a kick, or her training blade. Felix followed each of her directions, always pushing forward, determination written over every inch of his features as they twisted around and lunged at each other.

Both of the sword wielders had been (and probably still were) upset with him after their conversation yesterday afternoon—though both of them showed their displeasure in vastly different ways. Felix hadn’t spoken a word to him, a feat that wasn’t terribly difficult with the situation he was currently in. He was used to this type of treatment, and had suffered it often due to his antics while they studied at Garreg Mach. However, because Felix wasn’t speaking with him, he was exiled to sleep in Byleth’s room. When Ingrid questioned him about it, Felix cited not wanting to be woken up by another one of his episodes. It seemed especially cruel after his admission of his feelings for the blue-haired mercenary… and cruel it ended up being. 

That evening, he had quickly come to learn that Byleth’s displeasure was another beast entirely. He foolishly thought that things had been awkward between them in the beginning of this adventure—back when he didn’t trust her and was still holding onto his stubborn pride. He realized now, how kind and open she had been, even in the beginning. Unfortunately, he only realized it because that kindness and openness was now gone. 

It’s not as though she was unkind—at first, he hadn’t even noticed that she was upset. (Though, that may have been because he was stuck in his own head for most of the evening.) She still spoke to him—asking his preferences on where he slept, asking whether he needed anything, etc.—but her tone had changed. It was like she had built a barrier between them, and they had now shifted into acting more like an employer and employee. She wasn’t nearly as submissive as one of the servants at home would be, but she acted like she was only there because she’d been ordered to be.

It was unsettling to think that, in a round-about way… she had been.

Any of his attempts at conversation were met by curtly spoken one-word answers, and at the first opportunity she had feigned sleep in order to get out of any of his attempts at further conversation. He had stirred sometime before dawn to find that he was no longer on the opposite side of the large bed, but rather curled up with his head on her stomach, with her fingers tangled in his fur like she had fallen asleep petting him. It only made the hurt he felt at their distance worse when he realized that the dog he was slowly turning into was still receiving her affections.

The worst part of Byleth’s ire was the fact that he didn’t know the exact cause. He knew Felix wasn’t speaking with him because he was scared. Felix didn’t want to face the possibility of him not getting changed back, and he had pushed too hard when he asked the swordsman to look out for Byleth. Felix didn’t handle these things well, and Sylvain knew that. Was it something similar with Byleth? Was she upset that she couldn’t do anything to help? Was she upset that he was obeying his father’s orders, rather than running away to Fhirdiad with her and Felix? Was it his comment about how she had called him an asshole? It wasn’t really fair to drudge that up, especially because it was before their unusual friendship ( _is that what this is?_ ) had truly taken root. Or had it been because of the rant about his father? 

He wanted to know, but he was also too scared to ask.

Because they were sparring, it took Byleth and Felix a little while to realize he was himself again. Eventually Felix disarmed Byleth with a well-placed strike, and Byleth tackled him to the ground to avoid yielding to the raven-haired swordsman. After a bit of struggle, Felix ended up on top, pinning Byleth’s hands above her head. However, his upper-hand didn’t last long because amber eyes met his and Felix faltered. Byleth took advantage of his distraction, flipping them over and pinning Felix down with her knees before looking up to see what had distracted him in the first place.

“Good morning,” she greeted in that formal tone that he was really starting to hate. He hadn’t realized how much he enjoyed her relieved sighs and the hugs she usually gave, until they were gone. Felix huffed a heavy breath out of his nose and bucked Byleth off of his torso, before quickly rolling to his feet and leaving her on the ground.

“At it again?” he asked, trying to force a carefree tone.

Felix crossed his arms and looked off to the side as he grumbled, “There’s not much else to do while we wait for Miklan to get here.” 

“Right…” It was probably safe to say they were both upset with him still.

In a move that had to require some acrobatics, Byleth rolled her knees to her chest and then leapt to standing in one fluid movement, acting nonchalant like it wasn’t one of the most impressive things he’d ever seen her do. _How in the Eternal Flames did I run into this woman? How does someone like her even exist?_

As soon as she was on her feet, she started to stretch her arms over her head and asked, “Is there something you would rather do with your last day in Fraldrius?” 

His voice croaked as he asked, “Last day?” He failed to suppress a shudder.

She tilted her head to the side and pursed her lips. “We leave for Fhirdiad in the morning, correct?”

“Oh…” he chuckled nervously, “Right. I think that was the plan.” Both Felix and Byleth stared at him and he fought the urge to fidget. He knew it was something he ought to consider, however morbid it may be. If he was never going to be turned back, how would he want to spend his last day at Fraldarius? An idea struck him, and he only pondered it for a moment before he blurted out, “We could go and check out the hideout?”

“The hideout?” Felix snorted, his lips curling up in the barest smirk, “I haven’t checked on that thing in years.”

“All the more reason to go!” he insisted, latching onto the closest thing to a positive reaction that he had gotten out of Felix since he stormed out of the sitting room yesterday afternoon.

“Have fun,” Byleth called dismissively, before bending over to pick up her training sword. 

She began to walk toward one of the dummies, rolling her shoulders and cracking her neck as she did so, when he quickly, and with a cringe-worthy tinge of desperation, asked, “Why don’t you come with us?” Felix rolled his eyes, but didn’t object.

He watched as Byleth’s shoulders tensed, and her grip on the hilt of the training sword in her hand became white-knuckled, signaling her unease. “It sounds… personal,” she responded without turning to look at him, “I’ll stay here and give you guys some time alone.”

He really needed to make things better. As much as he felt the urge to continue to keep her at a distance to make this whole thing easier, he missed the Byleth he had been interacting with the last several days. As such, he quickly dropped all pretense of not begging. “Please?” he pleaded. She finally turned around to face him, and he watched as she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She seemed to analyze him for a moment before she sighed in what was most likely resignation and nodded.

Felix shrugged as he supplied, “He’d probably freak out if you weren’t there when he had an episode, anyway, and you know how I hate dealing with that. It’s best to be safe.”

“Felix has always been more of a cat lover,” he teased, walking over to casually bump against Byleth’s leg. She stepped away from him, carefully putting distance between them. It hurt, but he tried to keep his playfulness going, hoping that if he kept it up it would eventually wear her down, “I should have turned into a cat instead, maybe then he would actually like me.”

“A cat lover, hm?” She raised an eyebrow toward Felix, who had started to blush due to the teasing. It didn’t mean much, considering that Felix had always been a blusher. The fact that he loved cats was a little-known secret, but something that he always enjoyed teasing the swordsman mercilessly over ever since that day at the monastery where he accidentally came across the swordsman surrounded by felines, all batting at him with their little paws as he cooed and gushed in a very un-Felix like manner. Byleth looked Felix up and down slowly, and Sylvain bit back a chuckle as Felix flushed further. She teased, “I can see you being a cat person.”

“They’re just…” Felix stammered, motioning his hands through the air with no apparent rhyme or reason as he spluttered, “They are cute, okay! Cuter than dogs, and certainly cuter than Sylvain.” Felix glared down at him with his arms crossed, which might be intimidating if he weren’t blushing to the tips of his ears. Why the swordsman was so embarrassed about loving cats, he would never know. 

“Oh, don’t say that,” Byleth crooned, walking toward the door of the training room, “you might hurt your boyfriend’s feelings.”

“Boyfriend?!” Felix screeched, whipping around to glare daggers at him.

Sylvain wasn’t doing much better. He indignantly called, “Hey! I thought we dropped that already!” She shook her head with an amused chuckle as she pulled the door of the training room open. He supposed he should be pleased with the fact that she was willing to tease, rather than keeping the distance between them. He wasn’t sure that this type of teasing was doing him any favors, though.

She called, “Are we going to this hideout place of yours, or not?”

Felix grumbled, “You guys are both the worst,” he pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh, “Why am I even spending time with either of you?”

“Come on! You know you love me,” he chuckled. He bounded out of the way as Felix half-heartedly kicked his leg out at him, still laughing. He felt a bit better now. At this point, he’d take whatever interaction he could get from either of them.

There was a light snowfall as they traversed the grounds of the massive Fraldarius Estate. Sylvain worried that perhaps he shouldn’t have brought Byleth out here as she rubbed her arms over the sleeves of her cloak, but his worries were assuaged when Felix rolled his eyes and took the cloak from his own shoulders to hang over hers.

“But you’ll be cold,” she protested, beginning to take it off so she could give it back.

“This is nothing when you’ve been raised up here,” Felix groused, staring straight ahead, “I’ll be just fine without it.”

Sylvain glanced over at her as he asked, “Should we go back inside? Are you too cold?”

She shook her head and pulled the teal, fur-lined cloak a little tighter around her torso. The tip of her nose was red from the chill, but otherwise she looked okay. “No, I’ll be fine. How much farther is it?” She looked around, her eyes sparkling as she took in the landscape. Flakes of snow had settled over her hair, and he had the sudden urge to run his fingers through it.

He had to remind himself that he didn’t have fingers at the moment.

“It’s not much farther,” Felix answered. They walked down the stone pathway toward the entrance to the nearby woods with towering fir trees. He had always loved playing out here when he and Felix were children; climbing in the trees, playing knights and dragons, and hiding from Ingrid whenever she was pestering them about something. He had so many fond memories from his times in Fraldarius. When he glanced over at Felix, he noticed the swordsman’s features had softened considerably as he glanced around. He couldn’t help wondering if Felix was thinking of all of the fun times they had here, as well.

After a few more minutes of walking, they finally found it. Felix’s voice was soft as he murmured, “I can’t believe it’s still standing.” Sylvain ran toward their “hideout”, which was really a bunch of logs and branches they had managed to lean against a low-hanging branch of one of the trees, creating a small structure. The old wooden crates they once used as their seats had become old and worn due to the years that had passed and their exposure to the elements, and part of the structure had fallen, but it filled him with a sense of nostalgia all the same.

Byleth picked up a small plank of wood and wiped it off on her pant leg, holding it up with a wry smirk. Painted across the slab in Sylvain’s childish scrawl was “No Girls Allowed” in faded white paint. She playfully commented, “I see why you called it a hideout.”

“We used to come here when Ingrid was bugging us,” Felix chuckled fondly, shaking his head with a small smile. “Of course, that was back before Sylvain was obsessed with women.” Byleth attempted to smother her snicker with her hand, and failed miserably.

Sylvain chimed in, “When I see a beautiful woman, I can’t just let her pass by without commenting on it. It’s downright disrespectful.” Byleth and Felix both rolled their eyes at him, nearly in sync. It was a little creepy.

“Well, your sense of who is beautiful has been downright comical at some points,” Felix pointed out with a devilish grin.

“Oh?” Byleth’s eyebrows traveled up with obvious interest.

He growled, “Felix...” in warning, but it seemed his supposed best friend wasn’t paying him any mind.

“Let’s see,” Felix hummed as he began ticking off fingers, “there was the time you hit on Ingrid’s grandmother…”

“Her grandmother?” Byleth chuckled into her fist. She glanced at him with obvious amusement and asked, “Into older women, Sylvain?”

“Come on! I was eight and she was gorg—" Byleth started fully laughing, her eyes crinkling so much that they were nearly closed, and he was absolutely sure that he was bright red under his fur. He protested, “That was a long time ago!” 

Felix ticked off another finger, his devilish grin curling even more. “There was the time he started spewing compliments to some woman at the harvest festival, only to realize it was actually a scarecrow…”

“Oh goddess…” Byleth was slightly bent over, wheezing, her eyes watering so much that a tear streamed down her cheeks as she laughed at him, “A scarecrow? You’re kidding?”

He got up on his back paws, planting his front ones on Felix’s stomach as he growled, “Felix Hugo Fraldarius, you better shut your—”

Felix met his gaze as he ticked off one last finger, “Or my personal favorite—”

Realizing that his threats were having little to no effect, he quickly switched to begging and desperately pleaded, “Felix! I thought we were friends!”

Felix continued as if he hadn’t heard him, but the malicious twinkle in his eyes made it obvious that he had, and just didn’t care at all that he was tarnishing what little favor he might have with Byleth. “—where he was forced to flee from one of his conquest’s homes with only his uniform jacket to hold over his groin, while her brother chased him out with a pitchfork. The entire village below the monastery saw his pale ass as he ran away.” 

He made sure Felix could hear him over the sound of Byleth’s wheezing laughter as he grumbled, “You should know that I hate you. I really do.”

Felix grabbed his front legs and guided them off of his stomach, a smug grin on his face. He then used his own words against him as he mocked, “Oh, come on! You know you love me!”

“Oh goddess…” Byleth panted, still trying to gather herself after her fit of laughter, “That is… quite the resume, Sylvain. Congratulations.”

“They aren’t all that bad,” he grumpily pointed out, sitting down with an annoyed huff. He had slept with many beautiful women, and some that were at the very least a decent distraction. Not that he was going to discuss this any further with Byleth. Ever.

“Sure, sure,” Byleth waved a hand dismissively. She sat down on the cold ground and leaned her weight back on her hands, a beautiful smile spread across her face that made the humiliation slightly… not as bad.

No. It was still bad.

Felix sat down as well with an amused chuckle. “You said he tried to hit on you,” he began, looking at Byleth in interest, “What line did he use?”

She looked to him as she tilted her head thoughtfully, that same smile stretching her cheeks. “Let’s see… what was it?” She tapped her chin in mock thought and in a terrible impression of him said, “‘What’s a pretty girl like you, doing in a place like this?’ Was that it?”

Felix wrinkled his nose as he clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Of course, he did.”

“I’m really not enjoying this dynamic you two have going on,” he dryly commented as he laid his head down on the ground. “I’ve officially decided you two are dangerous together, and are not to be trusted.”

Byleth leaned her head in Felix’s direction conspiratorially as she stage-whispered, “When it didn’t work, he said, ‘But I can tell you’re special. You aren’t going to fall for my usual tricks, are you?’ It was rather amusing.” Felix shook his head as he laughed at him. He knew Felix could be mean, but it turned out his best friend was downright cruel.

“Well, I’m sorry I’m not like ‘blushing maiden’ Jeremiah,” he griped, looking off to the side.

Felix continued to snicker as he asked, “Who’s Jeremiah?”

“We caught a ride on the wagon of a kind merchant and his son, and the son was…” Byleth trailed off as she seemed to look for the correct word.

“Smitten,” Sylvain finished for her. “The poor guy couldn’t even shake Byleth’s hand without blushing like a schoolgirl. Frankly, I’m surprised he had the balls to invite you to stay in his room that first night.”

“I doubt he would have had the nerve to try anything,” she sighed with a roll of her eyes, “Besides…” she paused and drew her knees to her chin, “I’m glad I didn’t take him up on it.”

“Why?” Felix prodded, raising an eyebrow.

Byleth’s gaze felt like it was piercing right through him as he explained, “That was the night we were attacked in our sleep. The night Byleth fended off the people who were trying to take me.” She tilted her head back to look at the snowflakes lightly falling from the sky. He examined her features as she stuck out her tongue to catch some of the snowflakes on her tongue, just like he and his friends used to do when they were children.

Felix chimed in, “I still think you’re a lucky bastard.”

“If I come out the other side of this whole ordeal,” Byleth looked back down at him and he held her gaze, “I just might be inclined to agree with you.” Byleth nibbled her lower lip as she averted her gaze to her knees. 

Felix cleared his throat awkwardly and murmured, “Well… I guess I’m glad you didn’t shack up with Jeremiah, then.” Byleth laughed and threw a twig at Felix, who threw it right back at her with an annoyed click of his tongue.

He looked away as he asked, “When did your father say Miklan was going to get here?” 

“This evening, most likely” Felix answered, his posture immediately becoming more tense, “It might depend on whether the snow picks up.”

Sylvain shook his head dismissively. “Gautier’s knights are accustomed to this type of weather. Though… Miklan’s not a fan of riding on horseback. They might bring a carriage, which would make travel a bit slower, even with some of the fastest horses in the Kingdom.”

“Do you think we could leave for Fhirdiad as soon as they get here?” Byleth chimed in, switching to a more business-like tone with the switch in the topic of conversation. As much as he disliked their combined teasing, he missed the warmth that had settled between them.

“It will probably depend on when they get here,” he answered evenly. It would also depend on what type of mood Miklan was in, and he didn’t like his chances of Miklan wanting to do anything but soak in his misery this evening.

“I’m not leaving you alone with him when you’re like this,” Felix gritted out, his hands clenching in the dirt at his sides.

He wearily sighed, “Felix…” He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for the thought. He had no idea how Miklan was going to react to this situation, other than a surety that there would be cruelty. Whether it would be physical or emotional, he wasn’t sure.

Byleth analyzed him with those deep pools of blue, as she hesitantly guessed, “He hurt you… when you were young.” He had to look away from her. He really didn’t want to have this conversation right now. Weren’t things bad enough as they were?

Felix bitterly corrected, “Miklan tried to _kill him_ when he was young.”

He sharply barked, “Felix!” as he glared at his childhood friend.

“What?” the swordsman spat right back, eyes narrowed in challenge, “She’s trying to protect you. She should know.” 

Byleth started to move toward him, her expression riddled with pity, and he moved away as he snarled, “This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you!”

She shied away as her features contorted with confusion, and maybe a little bit of hurt. It would make him feel bad if he wasn’t so focused on how much he hated the idea of her pitying him. “What are you talking about?” 

“You’re just going to fucking pity me!” he yelled, still backing away from her advances, “I’ve had enough of your pity to last a lifetime.” 

“I don’t pity you—I _care_ ,” she corrected in firm tone, “It’s different.” Something dangerous leaked into her expression as she gritted out, “He never should have hurt you.”

“You don’t know anything about this--about him, about me,” he argued fruitlessly as she continued to walk toward him, “It’s none of your business, anyway.” Felix was watching them from his spot on the ground, staying out of the mess he had created. Lousy traitor.

She let out a shout of exasperation before countering, “I’ll be making it my business if he’s the one who plotted against you!” 

“No!” he barked, “You’ll do no such thing. Stay away from Miklan.” It wasn’t that he wanted to protect Miklan from Byleth, but the other way around. He didn’t even want to think of what would happen if Miklan got his filthy hands on her. He might be a philanderer, but he suspected Miklan was capable of doing far worse to women when he was feeling especially cruel.

Her whole body was tensed now as they argued, and he had run out of space to back away as he bumped into a tree. “I don’t really have a choice while we travel to Fhirdiad,” she argued.

“Then don’t come to Fhirdiad,” he all but pleaded, “Go to Enbarr and meet up with your father, like you planned. You should have left after we got here.”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice or the prospect of leaving, he couldn’t be sure, but Byleth crouched down in front of him as the anger drained from her features. “I promised that I was going to stay until you were changed back. I’m keeping my promise.”

He exasperatedly yelled, “ _AGAIN_ , with your stupid promise! Will you just give it a rest?” If this didn’t work out, if he never got changed back, the last thing he wanted was for her to feel like she had broken this promise, or that she had failed him. She didn’t deserve to feel guilty, when all she had done was try to protect him.

“So, promises are stupid now?” Felix interjected with a deep scowl. The offended swordsman had moved to stand a few feet behind Byleth, barely visible unless Sylvain craned his neck to the side.

“I don’t have a choice, Fe. I don’t want to break our promise, but there’s not much I can do if I turn into a dog for good, now is there?”

“Let’s leave right now then,” Byleth pleaded, her doe eyes wide and beseeching, “We’ll avoid your brother altogether and have you to Fhirdiad before nightfall. It’s hardly afternoon, and the snow will help cover our tracks if we’re being pursued by Kronya’s men.”

“I've already sent a message to Annette to tell her about everything,” Felix added, coming to kneel at Byleth’s right as they both plead their case, “She and her colleagues should already be coming up with theories on how to fix this. If we go right now, they have an extra day to find a solution.”

“Guys,” he sighed, shaking his head as he looked anywhere but at the two of them, “I can’t—”

“Please?” Byleth whispered, walking on her knees until she pulled him into an embrace, “Please, just let us help you.”

“But…” he feebly argued into Byleth’s shoulder, “… my father…”

“What’s he going to do?” Felix scoffed, “Get mad that you were turned back quicker than expected? If he does, I’ll tell him where he can shove it.”

“Miklan…”

“We’ll handle that, as well,” Byleth cooed, holding him tightly with one arm as the other hand scratched that spot near his ear that he enjoyed.

He raised his head to look at her as he pleaded, “Don’t… don’t go near Miklan.”

“I won’t have to if we leave now,” she earnestly supplied, with Felix nodding in agreement beside them. “All we have to do is throw the necessary provisions together and go.”

“We could leave in less than an hour,” Felix coaxed, putting a hand somewhere near his neck.

He looked between them as his mind grappled with indecision. His father would surely find a way to be upset that he had disobeyed his orders, but it would be worth it if it meant not turning into a dog for the rest of his life. Leaving now would mean that he wouldn’t have to deal with Miklan until he was back to normal, and Byleth wouldn’t have to be around him at all. The episodes were longer, and closer together. He couldn’t know how much time he had left, but having an extra day for the mages at the Institute to work on an antidote would certainly be useful for them.

The only reason he had to say no was his own fear. Fear of his father, fear of Miklan, fear of leaving the safety of Fraldarius. All of it felt paralyzing.

“Please?” Byleth pleaded again. He found he couldn’t stand against the softness in her tone.

“Okay…” he breathed, nodding his head slowly as he tried to strengthen his resolve, “Let’s go.”

Felix and Byleth quietly discussed the plan as they quickly made their way back into the mansion. They then split up at Byleth’s room so Felix could go and grab some food supplies and a small pack of clothes and things for himself. They agreed to meet near the stables in half an hour. 

He found himself pacing as Byleth threw the few items she had brought with her back into her pack and strapped on her weapons. She turned toward him with the brightest smile as soon as she was finished, her eyes lit up with determination and excitement for the journey ahead. “We can do this!” she insisted as she squatted down in front of him. “This is it. We’re going to get you turned back to normal!”

His heart was hammering in his chest as apprehension and hope battled for dominance. He had the urge to press himself against her, and he didn’t fight it, nearly knocking her backwards as he buried his face in her neck. She was quick to throw her arms around his neck as she moved to a kneeling position so she was more likely to stay upright. In a tone so soft, too soft, she asked, “Are you okay?”

“Just… nervous,” he quietly confessed.

“It’s okay to be scared,” she gently assured him, “I won’t hold it against you.” 

In a burst of confidence (or maybe desperation) he met her soft gaze and asked, “Why?”

She raised an eyebrow and asked, “Why what?” 

“Why are you doing all of this?” he prodded, “Why are you so eager to help me? Why?”

Her lips pursed like they were attempting and failing to form a smile, before she patted him on the head and answered, “Felix may be your best friend… but I think you just might be mine.”

It was an intriguingly agonizing feeling as his heart seemed to burst and shrivel at the same moment. He weakly chuckled, “Best friend, huh? I’m not sure I’ve been a good one.”

“I wish you’d stop that,” she exasperatedly sighed, brushing her hair out of her face as she sat back on her heels.

“Stop what?”

“You talk about yourself like…” she paused as she bent down and grabbed each side of his head, “You talk about yourself like you don’t matter. But you do.” He tried to pull back, feeling anxious due to her sincerity, but she gently held him there. “Your father and your brother might not care like they should, but you have people that do care about you. Felix, Ingrid, Glenn, Lord Rodrigue, and I… we care about you. When you give up on yourself, it’s like you’re giving up on us, too.”

“I haven’t even known you for two weeks,” he weakly joked, trying to look away.

She let him go and stood to pull her pack onto her back. “Well, then you’re giving up on Felix, Ingrid, Glenn, and Lord Rodrigue. You can take me out of the—”

“No,” he pleaded, getting up on his hind legs to plant his front paws against her stomach as he had with Felix earlier, “that’s not what I meant.” He had always prided himself on his silver tongue, but it seemed that Byleth’s presence tarnished that ability, because he always managed to say the wrong thing. He cursed that fact as she held his front paws up, stabilizing him as she waited for him to find whatever it was that he wanted to say. “I just meant… I… I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for all that you’ve done.”

She chuckled in that breathy way he was so very fond of and retorted, “Let’s get you back to normal so you have the chance to try. Yeah?” Her head tilted to the side as her smile grew and all he wanted to do was hug her. The thought spilled from his lips without being granted his permission, and she giggled as her eyes crinkled with a look far too fond. “Another reason to get you back to normal, then.” 

“I have about a million of those,” he commented, dropping back down to the ground as he tried to fight the urge to hide away in embarrassment. Goddess, maybe he was just as bad as “blushing maiden” Jeremiah.

She nodded and walked to the door, calling over her shoulder, “Let’s get to the stables. It’s time to get going.”

They stood near the stables, anxiously waiting for Felix to come out. Byleth was fidgeting, picking at her nails and tapping her fingers against the pommel of her sword. They weren’t exactly sneaking out, per say, but Lord Rodrigue would definitely attempt to stop them if word reached him before they left the gates of the estate. He plodded over and brushed against her leg, lacking any other means to try and give ( _or seek_ ) comfort at the moment. There were too many knights and servants around for him to ask why she was so nervous.

Felix came out after a few minutes, walking purposefully toward them with a pack on his back and another empty one in his hand. They had decided that for the sake of time, they would attempt to stick him in a travel pack, that Byleth would then hang from the front of her body. It promised to be an awkward and uncomfortable couple of hours, but it would cut their travel time in half, so it was decidedly worth it.

“I spoke to Glenn,” Felix hurriedly murmured as he walked up to them, “He’s going to cover with father until we are far enough away.” He held up the travel pack and eyed him warily. “Are you sure this crazy plan is going to work?”

“Not really,” Byleth confessed with a grimace, “But I don’t know how else we can get him on a horse. Any ideas?”

Felix didn’t get the chance to enlighten them, because a moment later his head jerked to the left as the sounds of commands to open the gate to the estate were called by the knights guarding it. “Fuck…” he murmured, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The gates swung open, and a proud group of Fraldarius pegasus knights trotted into the estate, closely followed by a few knights bearing an insignia that he had grown up seeing his entire life. He laughed bitterly, not able to restrain it, as a carriage rolled through. The wheels scraped against the cobblestone of the courtyard, and Felix and Byleth both, probably instinctively, stepped in front of him as it came to a stop in front of the steps that led to the main entrance of the mansion less than twenty yards away.

He watched between their legs as the door of the carriage swung open, House Gautier’s coat of arms proudly painted on across it, and a tall man with an unruly head of red hair that was so similar to his own stepped out. Felix’s fists clenched as Glenn came out the front doors to greet Miklan with a cordial dip of his head. It only took a moment of their older brothers conversing for Miklan’s head to turn, allowing him to finally spot them.

“Now, where’s my poor baby brother?” he called with insincere worry, looking between Felix and Byleth’s faces, until his eyes dropped to where he could partially be seen through the gaps in their legs. He fought to suppress a shudder as eyes the same color as his own stared down at him. 

Byleth made some sort of angry huff in the back of her throat as her body tensed. He nudged her leg with his head and whispered, “You should go.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” she gritted out, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. Miklan was already walking toward them, a cordial smile on his face as he looked Felix and Byleth up and down, and cast glances at him where he stood behind them.

“Please,” he quietly pleaded, “I’ll be—”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir,” Byleth greeted, effectively cutting off his attempt to persuade her. She crossed an arm over her chest and bowed formally as Miklan approached. The lecherous look in his older brother’s eyes as he surveyed Byleth was enough to pull a growl from his throat before he could swallow it. Though, if Miklan heard, he didn’t acknowledge it.

“You must be the mercenary I’ve heard so much about,” Miklan’s tone rang false, but Byleth placed her hand in his when he reached for it, and allowed him to press a kiss to the back of it. “My baby brother always manages to come across the loveliest women. I’ve never been able to understand it.”

Felix grunted in annoyance as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Jealous, Miklan?”

That earned a harsh bark of laughter, and Miklan’s eyes were cold when they made eye contact for the first time since his arrival. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s much to be jealous of at the moment.”

Glenn joined their party then, and in formal tone suggested, “Perhaps we could discuss things further once we’re inside?”

“In a moment,” Miklan murmured, his eyes traveling to the packs held by Byleth and Felix, “It looks like you were about to set out somewhere? Am I interrupting?”

“We are eager to get to Fhirdiad, so we were hoping we could set out as soon as you arrived,” Byleth explained in that tone of voice she always seemed to use when she was trying to be less threatening.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Miklan answered in a tone riddled with fake sympathy, “We’ve pushed the horses hard to arrive here as quickly as we did. I think it would be best if my brother and I left in the morning.”

“Byleth and I are coming with you,” Felix asserted, his arms still crossed as he stared the much taller man down.

He didn’t have the opportunity to hear whatever Miklan said in reply. A whimper escaped him as haziness flooded his mind, and he immediately crumbled to the freezing ground. Felix and Byleth were at his side in an instant, and Byleth held his head as he stared up at her. He wanted to beg, “ _Don’t leave me_ ,” but he couldn’t get his mouth to form the words.   
His vision was filled with blue as his mind became blank and blank and blank and…

As he slowly became aware of his surroundings, the level of anxiety that he felt was overwhelming, and he found that he couldn’t stop barking. The sound of his own barking was muffled, like he was submerged in water or something. He tried to focus enough to where he could control it, but for several moments all he could do was stare at the door, barking and whining at the wood.

“—any other way to calm it down?” Miklan asked with a tinge of annoyance, somewhere near him. The sound of multiple sets of footsteps reached his ears as he tried to keep his mouth shut, but failed.

Felix argued, “I told you if you would have just let Byleth stay—” _Byleth? Where is Byleth? She left? Is that why I’m barking at the door?_

Miklan interrupted, “She’s a mercenary, which means she cannot be trusted. Quite frankly, Father is furious that she was involved in this at all. House Gautier does not associate with those who have no loyalty to the Crown.” Felix snorted derisively, but didn’t comment as he finally gained control of himself enough to stop barking and drop to the ground in exhaustion. 

Felix ran over to kneel down beside him and nudged him as he said his name, obviously trying to check on him. His voice slurred as he asked, “Byleth? Where’s Byleth?” 

“She went to go and train while we discuss the plan,” Felix explained, hovering over him looking worried. “Are you alright?”

“Couldn’t stop barking,” he wearily supplied, “So tired.”

Felix turned back toward where Miklan’s voice was coming from, though he hadn’t had the mental energy to turn and look at his brother yet. “I don’t understand why we’re still here! We need to get him to Fhirdiad! NOW!”

Lord Rodrigue’s voice sounded out somewhere else in the room. “I know you are distressed by Sylvain’s condition, my son, but Miklan needs to be brought up to speed on what we’re dealing with here.”

“None of that matters if he doesn’t get turned back in time!” Felix argued, “I’d rather face these bastards in battle right now and get him to the Institute, rather than sitting around discussing the issue to death.”

“And that lack of foresight is the very reason it’s fortunate that you are a second son,” Miklan dryly commented, earning a growl of frustration from Felix before he came back to hover over his face with a worried expression.

“I’m fine,” he assured the swordsman, picking up his head so he could look back at the others in the room. He quickly realized they were in the private sitting room again. Rodrigue sat on a lounger with Glenn standing directly behind him, crossing his arms and watching Miklan with a look of obvious suspicion. His brother was hovering nearby, pretending to look concerned like he wasn’t relishing in the opportunity to see him like this, miserable and stuck as a dog. He tried to shake off his fatigue as he asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

“Are you sure you’re alright, Sylvain?” Miklan asked, his eyebrows furrowed in a look of fake sincerity, “You’ve been barking and whining at the door for quite some time.”

“I can’t control it when I’m like that,” he sighed, groaning slightly as he got to his feet. It felt harder to move, like every step he took required more concentration than it ever had before. They really needed to get to Fhirdiad. He really hoped Annette and the others would be able to fix him soon. “Why isn’t Byleth here? She knows just as much about this as I do.”

Miklan lips pulled down into a frown. “Father doesn’t trust her.”

“Father doesn’t know her,” he argued, “And more importantly, I trust her.”

Miklan let out a patronizing chuckle. “Excuse my language, but it’s well known that you trust anything with breasts, dear brother.”

“Such talk is unnecessary,” Lord Rodrigue cut in sternly, “Byleth has done well in bringing your brother to us, and has shown that she genuinely wishes to see Sylvain returned to his former self.”

“I’m sure she does,” Miklan replied, raising his hands in a pacifying manner, “I’m sure the wandering mercenary would like nothing more than to use my naïve brother as a foothold with which to climb into the circle of nobility. However—”

“She’s not like that!” he barked, all of his muscles coiling in a way that he couldn’t control. The fact that he would imply such a thing had a pool of anger forming in his gut. Miklan and his father didn’t know her, he did. He knew she wasn’t using him. He knew it.

Miklan waved a hand dismissively, “Whatever you need to tell yourself, brother. Father has sent me with adequate payment for her services, and he has declined to pay her anything more. He has expressed that he wishes for this to be handled with as much discretion as possible. Unfortunately, he is concerned that if word gets out about this—"

“Let me guess,” he dryly cut in, “I’ll become a less eligible suitor.”

“He feels that the current situation reflects poorly on House Gautier,” Miklan murmured as he looked down at the ground, feigning reluctance. The whole “big brother” act was very quickly getting on his nerves. Especially knowing that on the inside Miklan was probably savoring every moment of his agony and fear, just like he always had. Not to mention the fact that his father only cared about how this would look for him, rather than caring that his son may turn into a dog for the rest of his life, was like a blow to the face. No matter how expected, it still hurt.

“How does the Margrave wish to handle this?” Lord Rodrigue asked, obviously trying to get them back on topic.

Miklan smiled cordially and responded, “The Gautier knights and I will transport Sylvain to Fhirdiad in the carriage, where we will travel directly to the Institute of Royal Sorcery as you have so wisely suggested, Lord Rodrigue.”

“Surely with the unknown group that has been targeting him still out there, it would be safer if I sent an additional battalion with you,” Lord Rodrigue suggested, a hand on his chin.

“A small army of Fraldarius and Gautier knights would only be looked upon in suspicion,” Miklan countered, “And as I’ve previously explained, Father wishes to handle this with discretion.”

 _Are you kidding me?! This has to be a joke._ He shouted, “They killed an entire band of mercenaries, Miklan! They tried to kill Byleth! We need to have protection. I’m sure they are still coming for me.”

“You’re telling me this group of fighters failed to kill one mercenary woman?” Miklan raised a skeptical eyebrow, “Come, brother. Surely if this woman can defend you on her own, Gautier’s finest will be sufficient for the short journey to Fhirdiad. After you are safely in the hands of the mages, they will begin the hunt to find the fiends that have plotted this in the first place.”

“Byleth is a highly skilled fighter,” Felix interjected, “If it were anyone else, Sylvain probably wouldn’t even be here right now.” 

Miklan sighed, “I have twenty of House Gautier’s finest knights waiting to accompany us. I fail to see why further measures are necessary.”

Felix narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why don’t you want more knights? More protection is never a bad thing.”

Miklan put a hand to his chest in mock offense. “It is not that I do not wish for more protection for my brother and I, it is that I do not wish for the entire Kingdom to learn of his current condition. Can you imagine the scandal? The sideways glances? This is already a harrowing ordeal, and I do not wish for Sylvain to suffer any further.”

“I don’t care if everyone in Fodlan knows,” he angrily insisted, “I care that I reach Fhirdiad safely, and that I have Felix and Byleth with me when I get there.”

Miklan sighed in a put-upon manner and tilted his head to the ceiling. “Alright. Father will not be pleased, but if you insist, it would be a great service to House Gautier if some of House Fraldarius knights would accompany us.” His brother turned his face back toward him and said, “Father will not pay your mercenary any more than what I have with me currently. It is her decision whether she wishes to travel with us. Either way we will be leaving at dawn.”

“Alright,” he nodded, and in a lower voice added, “I’ll talk to her myself.” He hoped Miklan got the point that he wasn’t to go near her. 

Miklan turned and bowed to Lord Rodrigue. “If there is nothing further, I wish to retire for the evening.”

“Of course,” Lord Rodrigue waved his hand in dismissal, “You should all eat so you may retire early. It would not do to be exhausted for your upcoming travels.”

After Miklan had left the room, casting him a sharp look that he wondered if anyone else noticed, he and Felix went to find Byleth. The level of relief that he felt as soon as he saw the bluenette striking a training dummy could only be considered pathetic, but when she turned upon their entry and looked just as relieved as he did, he couldn’t stop himself from running up to her. 

She immediately asked, “How did it go?” as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

“Miklan was insufferable, acting like he wasn’t getting off on what Sylvain’s going through. Acting all innocent with the big brother act,” Felix groused, crossing his arms and looking back toward the door like Miklan himself could be there. “And Sylvain officially can’t be in a room without you when he’s having an episode.”

“I heard you from down the hall,” she sighed with a worried frown, “I’m sorry, I didn’t think I could say no.”

“I’m sorry that it even happens,” he groaned, looking down at the floor. Was there anything more embarrassing? He doubted it.

“You said you couldn’t control your barking, even after you were aware of what was happening,” Felix prodded, walking around until he could see both of them.

He shuddered at the memory of that feeling, like he was trapped in his own body. Byleth looked at him in obvious concern, but he tried to shrug it off. “It will be fine. We leave for Fhirdiad at dawn, and hopefully Annette and her smart friends will be able to fix me.”

“Let’s hope so, brother,” Miklan’s voice called from behind him, making him tense as he turned around to face him. He stood in the doorway, watching the three of them with small sacks of what was most likely gold in his arms. “Sorry to interrupt your little gathering, I thought I would pay the lovely mercenary before I retire for the evening.” _The mercenary who can’t be trusted and only wishes to use him as a foothold to enter nobility? Singing a different tune now, huh Miklan?_

Byleth stood up to face him, and Sylvain found himself backing away as Miklan approached. “I don’t know if Sylvain has explained the situation, or not. We’ll be leaving at dawn, but unfortunately this is all I’m permitted to give you.” He held the sacks of gold out to her, and she hesitantly reached out to take them. “Sylvain has made it obvious that he wishes for you to accompany us, but unfortunately our father is not fond of mercenaries. If you wish to travel with us, it will be of your own volition, and House Gautier will not be employing you. This is in thanks for your services, and for your willingness to keep the things that you’ve seen to yourself.” _Hush money. Always classy, Father._

Byleth opened one of the sacks and looked to be fighting the urge to gape at the amount of gold his father had forked over. “This is far more than is necessary for the services I have performed, even with that fact that I do plan to accompany you to Fhirdiad.” She took two of the bags and held them out to Miklan, but he raised a hand and shook his head.

“Sylvain has made it clear that you are the only reason he has returned safely. As such, I believe it is money well spent.” He crossed an arm over his chest and bowed his head in a faux show of gratitude. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be retiring for the evening. I’ll see the three of you in the morning.” He waved, and then sauntered out the door.

“Well… my father might be somewhat appeased when I bring this back?” Byleth offered with a nervous chuckle.

He turned to her and asked, “Have you sent him word that you’re safe yet?”

“No,” she sighed, “It hasn’t been long enough to warrant a message just yet. I’m hoping I’ll get to Enbarr before he starts to truly worry.” It struck him then, that as soon as he was back to normal, Byleth was going to leave. Who knew whether they would ever see each other again? How was it possible that he was dreading that day, when he hadn’t even known her for two weeks yet? Goddess when did he become so pathetic?

When neither of them said anything for a moment, just continued to look at each other, Felix hesitantly offered, “Dinner is being served in the dining room again if you’d like food before you go to bed.” 

Byleth nodded, fumbling slightly with the bags of gold in her arms. “Right. Food. I’ll meet you guys there after I drop these off.” She nodded to them in farewell before walking out the door.

“Wow you’re hopeless,” Felix sighed, nudging him with his leg. “Would you pull yourself together so we can get some food?”

“Pull myself together?” he asked, turning to his friend.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard the expression, ‘you look like a kicked puppy’…?” He tilted his head and Felix rolled his eyes. “Well, you look like a kicked puppy. It’s pathetic.”

“Thanks,” he grumbled, starting toward the door.

Felix trailed along behind him as he chuckled, “You’re welcome.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble finds our protagonist on his way to Fhirdiad.

Dinner was a solemn affair. Thankfully, Miklan didn’t even come to the dining room. When Glenn asked one of the servants who was helping serve their meal about him, the woman reported that they had offered to take a tray of dinner to his room, but Miklan told them he didn’t wish to be disturbed for the rest of the evening.

He was beneath the table, so he couldn’t see anyone else’s reaction. It seemed… odd… to him. Before this moment, he was sure there was nothing Miklan would like more than to see him exiled to the floor beneath the table, unable to even speak due to the servants, and having to act like an actual dog. Besides that, he was sure there was going to be a moment where he was going to hold it over him, ridicule him, maybe even lash out at him. The fact that he was choosing to remain locked away in his room was oddly... well, odd… but also… comforting?

Maybe Miklan really was just here to get him to Fhirdiad and then get home. Maybe things were alright enough between them that Miklan didn’t feel the need to be vindictive. 

Or maybe things were bad enough that Sylvain’s own life was doing it for him. 

Byleth peeked beneath the table and he lifted his head to look at her. She pulled away, he assumed to check for servants, and then came back down. Her neck was craned in what had to be an uncomfortable fashion so that her head would fit while she was still seated, and her hair was all over the place as she asked, “Would you like to sleep in my room, or Felix’s?”

“Oh no no no,” Felix chimed in from above the table, “He’s your problem. I’m not dealing with an episode again tonight. Nope.” If he was his normal self, he’d pout. It seemed that this self was going to whimper instead, the pathetic sound leaking from him before he could hold it off. Felix scooted his chair back and dropped to his knees, seemingly unwilling to even give the pretense that he wasn’t talking to the dog beneath the table. Though, they were leaving at dawn, so he supposed it wouldn’t matter that much.

“Are you alright?” For all that he had teased a moment ago, now his features were soft and concerned. The swordsman stammered, “I wasn’t… I didn’t mean I was upset or anything. I know you can’t control it.”

He whispered back, “It’s fine,” tucking his head away to the side of the table that Glenn and Ingrid sat at. After their time at their old hideout, he knew that he couldn’t stand against both Byleth and Felix looking at him like that. If he continued to interact with eyes of amber and deep pools of blue, he’d probably spill all that he was thinking. He had become far too emotionally vulnerable over this whole ordeal, as such the thought of going back to his normal life had its perks.

He had a feeling it was going to hurt, though. 

The chair in front of him scraped back, and he looked over to see Ingrid getting on her knees. He rather grumpily thought they should just go to the sitting room if they all wanted to speak with him. The blonde asked, “Are you going to be alright tomorrow?” 

“I’ll have Miklan, Felix, and Byleth with me,” he quietly assured, still somewhat trying to keep up the image that he was a normal dog even if the others weren’t.

Ingrid pouted slightly, a sight that he normally wasn’t privy to, and looked up above the table to Glenn. He wasn’t sure what the silent interaction was, due to the fact that he couldn’t see above the edge of the table. She came back, shaking her head slightly. “I suppose… I’m just worried.”

He stood and walked over to tuck his head over her shoulder, a mock embrace with his lack of arms. She sighed wetly, a sound that broke his heart, and wrapped her arms around him far too tightly. He let it pass, knowing she needed the contact. “We’re going to meet up with Annette and all of her genius friends, they’re going to fix me, and I’ll be right back to bugging you in a few days,” he lightly teased. He wasn’t sure how much of that he believed, but it was certainly what he hoped for.

When Ingrid didn’t respond, instead beginning to shake slightly like she was crying into his fur, he chimed, “Besides, who’s going to make a fool of themselves at your wedding if I’m not around?”

Glenn and Felix both snickered, but Ingrid quickly pulled back to glare at him, her eyes rimmed with tears, and grumbled, “Sylvain Jose Gautier, if you ruin my wedding, I’ll—”

“There you are,” he cooed, bopping his nose against hers. 

Her features fell and tears began spilling down her cheeks as she buried her head back in his fur. She whimpered, “You’re the worst, you know that?”

He chirped, “I’ve been told that once or twice, yeah.” He wasn’t sure how Ingrid had mastered the affectionate glare, but she had. Though, now that he thought about it, she had a lot of opportunities to practice between Felix and himself. If he were human— _his normal self_ —he’d wipe away her tears and then pull her hair or something. (He was never one to be mature when it came to expressing emotions.) Seeing as he couldn’t do that, he settled on resting his head against her forehead. Her fingers curled in his fur and they sat there in a moment of comfortable togetherness.

“Just be careful, alright,” Ingrid requested, her voice still wavering but steadier than it had been a moment ago. “I don’t like this. I don’t like not knowing where that group is. Who’s to say they aren’t waiting outside the gates for you or something.”

“It would have been far easier for them to overwhelm just the two of us before we arrived,” Byleth quietly interjected. She dropped down to her knees so she could look at both he and Ingrid, making it so three occupants of the table were now on their knees. _These people are hopeless._ “Now they have to contend with knights and weighty political repercussions. They’d be stupid to try anything, and if they did try something, it’d take a small army to have even a remote possibility of succeeding.”

Glenn’s deep voice trickled down from above the table. “In your experience, is that feasible?” 

Byleth’s face became thoughtful as she pondered it for a tense moment. “It’s hard for criminal groups to become that large without having their reigning Lord or Lady getting involved—though it’s not impossible. My father and I once dealt with a bandit problem in old Nuvelle territory, where two of the crime syndicates had banded together to try and profit off the power vacuum that was left behind by fall of House Nuvelle. In the end, the Royal Imperial household hired us to help clear out the small army of bandits, alongside Imperial soldiers.”

“That’s with the promise of profit from an entire territory, though,” Felix gruffly cut in.

Byleth shrugged. “Glenn asked if it was feasible, so I gave an example of an instance I had seen it.”

“You’ve led an interesting life,” Glenn commented, finally joining the others on their knees as they spoke to him beneath the table. “It’s interesting to hear your take on politics from your side of things. I’ve attended the Officer’s Academy, sat in with His Majesty in meetings, and shadowed my father, but you still bring up situations that I never would have considered.”

“I take it we aren’t concerned about the servants knowing about me, then?” he cheekily chimed in. They all seemed to look at each other, realize how absurd they would look if someone walked in, and then quickly got back into their chairs, leaving him alone under the table. 

He would never admit that it made him feel a bit lonely.

Once they had all resumed their dining, and the sounds of cutlery chimed softly, or not so softly in Byleth’s case, Byleth hummed, “I’m part of the crew Lords and Ladies hire to clean up the more toxic problems. I think it’s part of what has…” she paused, and he couldn’t see her face so he couldn’t understand why at first, “…discolored my opinion of nobility.” 

That made sense.

“Who’s the worst noble you’ve worked for?” Felix eagerly asked.

He could imagine Ingrid rolled her eyes as she grumbled, “Felix…”

“I must admit I wouldn’t mind knowing,” Glenn chimed in. “It might be interesting to know for the future.”

“My father handles most of the talking, I’m more… hands on.” Felix snickered a bit. He remembered her father’s gruff, “What have I told you about laying hands on noble brats?” the night they met, and wondered what the story was behind that one. She hummed contemplatively before continuing, “Count Varley is an awful man, who looks down on anyone who is not nobility. There are rumors about the things he’s done to commoners who so much as look at his daughter, including a story where the gardener’s helper was killed, just for being friends with her.”

“Bernadetta?” he chimed in, before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to do that. He was fond of the purple-haired recluse when they were in the Academy. Not in a romantic sort of way—more in a “protect at all costs” sort of way.

“That explains why she acts the way she does,” Felix gritted out, his hands clenched down at his sides.

“Maybe I should write to her and see how she’s doing,” Ingrid mused.

Felix quickly countered, “Not if you’re going to kick down her door if she rejects your invitations again.”

“You what?!” Glenn spluttered. From the sound of his voice, Sylvain could tell he was barely withholding his laughter.

Ingrid solemnly admitted, “Upon further reflection, perhaps I should have treated her a bit more gently.” 

“She was terrified of me,” Felix grumbled, almost sounding like he was pouting.

“Why ever would that be?” Byleth lightly teased, earning chuckles from Glenn and Ingrid. Felix kicked her shin under the table and she leaned over to lash out with her elbow. They were so… chummy. He knew it was stupid to feel jealous, but he did.

Byleth was still chuckling lightly as she pushed back from the table. She knelt down and smiled as she asked, “Ready for bed?” He felt foolish for the way it made his heart stutter. He nodded silently and wormed his way out from beneath the table, nodding to Felix as their eyes met.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning. I’m going to stay and talk to Ingrid and Glenn a bit more.” The swordsman looked toward Byleth, and he may have been crazy, but he thought she raised an eyebrow in question, earning a nod in reply from Felix. He looked again, like he might be let in on whatever silent communication they were having, but Byleth turned around and was already heading to the door.

He looked to Felix, who waved and called a hasty “goodnight” before turning back to Ingrid and Glenn, who were whispering about something on the other side of the table. “Come on,” Byleth cheerfully called. When he turned, she was holding the door open for him and waving him toward it. He glanced at his childhood friends one more time before walking out the door.  


When they reached the room Byleth had been staying in, he asked, “What was that about?” 

She walked into the adjoining washroom, leaving the door open so they could converse, and called, “What was what about?”

“With Felix?”

He heard the sound of water sloshing—the servants must have drawn her a bath while they were having dinner—and he sat outside the washroom as he waited for her reply. She hummed quietly and then called, “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“He nodded to you.” He immediately felt stupid as soon as the words came out of his mouth.

“When we were saying goodnight? I think it was just like a… nod goodnight?” He could picture her shrugging and he laid down with a huff.

“You and Felix are… chummy.” Again, he felt stupid. What in the hell was he thinking was going to happen by starting this conversation?

“I like him,” she chuckled, accompanied by the sound of more water sloshing, “He’s a simple guy to figure out, and I think we get along pretty well.”

He teased, “You like him, hm?” It sounded terribly strained. He was really winning tonight.

She was quiet for a moment, and he put a paw over his face in shame. Her response was quiet, almost contemplative as she said, “I won’t see him again after I go, but it’s been fun while it lasted.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I guess you have a point.” She didn’t reply, instead she started to hum softly until she walked out of the washroom dressed in fresh sleep clothes. If she had bathed, she had done so ridiculously fast. Was that a mercenary thing? Or a Byleth thing?

She knelt down in front of him and sweetly said, “Thank you for letting me meet your friends.” She scratched his ear, smiling that kind smile of hers.

He would have liked to have said that it wouldn’t be the last time she saw Felix—or himself for that matter. He would have liked to have said that he would like nothing more than for her to be around for a long time to come, in whatever form that would take. However, he didn’t get the chance. Haziness flooded his mind yet again, but instead of dropping onto the floor, he fell into Byleth’s arms. He distantly realized that she was cradling him, trying to say something with a concerned look on her face, but all he could do was stare at her face as his mind went blank and blank and blank and…

“Sylvain…” Byleth whispered his name, as she nudged him, “Sylvain, I think we’re leaving soon.” His eyes flew open and he shot to standing, slightly surprising Byleth if her wide eyes meant anything. His breathing was uneven, and his heart was pounding in his chest. There were so many feelings roiling inside him—anxiety, excitement, apprehension, fear.

“Felix and I are going to be with you the whole time,” Byleth assured him, reaching out to pat his head. “It’s going to be alright… I’m going to make sure of it.”

He bowed his head as he whispered, “I don’t want anyone getting hurt. What if those people are out there waiting for me?”

Byleth immediately replied, “Then I’ll take care of them for you, just like I did with the last ones.” 

He looked up, meeting her gaze. “Don’t get hurt again,” he pleaded. She pursed her lips as she tilted her head ever so slightly. Apprehension coiled in his chest, and he knew he wasn’t going to like her answer before she even opened her mouth. 

“I can’t promise anything,” she apologetically said. “Getting hurt is a part of the job sometimes.”

“Except you aren’t working,” he countered, stepping closer to her so they were only inches apart, “This isn’t a job anymore.”

“I… well… it sort of is…?” she hesitantly supplied. His heart sank, and he turned away with a heavy sigh. Of course, she was still thinking of this as a job. What was he thinking? That he was doing all of this out of the kindness of her heart? That she was doing it because she cared about him? Because he was her “best friend”?

“I’m a mercenary,” she blurted, the words coming out in a rush as she leaned her weight forward on the bed, “everything that I do, every time I protect someone… It’s a job, but I want to do it. I can’t promise I won’t get hurt, because I’m going to do everything I can to protect you.” She slowly lowered and raised herself like some form of bastardized push-up, the muscles in her arms flexing and coiling with the movement. She seemed… nervous—like the movement was just an excuse to expel nervous energy.

“There are knights there for that,” he firmly reminded her, already guessing what her follow up would be.

“And I’m sure they are great, but I trust my own skills more.” Her answer was infuriating in its predictability. 

He let out a long-suffering sigh and hopped down from the bed. “Let’s get to Fhirdiad. I feel like I’ll be better able to scold your self-sacrificing tendencies when I have my face back.”

That seemed to have startled a laugh out of her, the sound loud and almost nervous sounding. She stood from the bed and moved to her pack as she teased, “My father has been doing it my entire life. I think your efforts may be wasted.”

“I don’t know…” he hummed, “I’ve been told I can be very persuasive.”

She dropped her gauntlet, the armor piece hitting the floor with a solid thump. She let out a breath of laughter as she leaned down to pick it up. “Whatever you say, noble dog.”

He turned around so she could get changed and commented, “I look forward to the day you can no longer call me that.”

She quietly replied, “I do, too”

They walked out into the courtyard to find the carriage being prepared by a few of the Gautier knights, as the others prepared their mounts. Felix was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs, and he turned to give them a firm nod as they approached.

The swordsman asked, “Are you ready?”

“To be myself again? Hell yes.” His nerves leaked into his tone, but his response still earned a huff of quiet laughter from his childhood friend.

“A squadron of twenty Fraldarius knights will fly above us,” he reported, tapping a slender finger on the pommel of his sword.

“How very generous of your father,” a voice chimed from behind them, accompanied by heavy footfalls as Miklan walked down the stone steps. His brother wore finery, rather than armor like Byleth and Felix. He wasn’t sure whether that was arrogance or confidence in the fact that they wouldn’t be attacked.

“How very _necessary_ ,” Felix insisted in an angry hiss, “to secure Sylvain’s safety.”

“Whoever is after Sylvain would be foolish to attack now,” Byleth assured, placing a placating hand on Felix’s arm, “And if they do come after him while we travel, it saves us the trouble of hunting them down later.”

Miklan laughed, the deep sound echoing through the sky as he threw his head back. When he lowered his head, he looked down to him and asked, “Where did you find this one?” However, he didn’t wait for a response. He walked down the remaining steps and gently took Byleth’s free hand, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of it as he had the day before. He crooned, “It is intriguing to find one so confident in their abilities. Tell me, if you have not been hired by my father to ‘hunt them down’ as you say, then why bother?” His smile was fake, and his gaze critical.

She stood firm under the scrutiny, going so far as to take the hand that was on Felix’s arm and reach up to smooth the lapel of Miklan’s jacket, making his older brother’s smile curl further. Her tone and her smile were far sweeter than her words as she quipped, “I am called the Ashen Demon for a reason, sir. I kill my enemies without hesitation. Whoever hired Kronya and her ilk to do this to your brother will pay for what they’ve done. I’ll see to it myself.” 

Another false laugh from his brother preceded, “And what has my foolish baby brother done to earn such loyalty?” Miklan’s eyes held a glint he didn’t like, one reminiscent of the days when he was feeling particularly vindictive. It was enough to send a chill down his spine, even when it wasn’t aimed at him. 

She joked, “Loyalty? I thought mercenaries weren’t capable of that?” She shook her head lightly, her blue hair tousling at the movement and declared, “No… when they decided to come after me, they made it personal.” Her eyes narrowed on Miklan with a hint of something dangerous, even as her mouth still curved with a sweet smile. He wasn’t sure whether she was saying that for his brother’s benefit, or because that was how she actually felt.

“I, for one, would hate to be on your bad side,” an unexpected female’s voice quipped. He turned to find Ingrid walking out the door dressed in travel armor, her honor guard knights walking behind her also dressed for travel. 

Miklan dipped his head in greeting. “Lady Galatea, to what do we owe the pleasure?” 

“I was pondering the fact that I was scheduled to go and meet with His Highness in two days’ time, and decided that I would forgo waiting and travel with you.” Miklan brushed his hands down the sides of his jacket. Ingrid lifted an eyebrow and prodded, “I’m assuming that won’t be a problem?”

Miklan countered, “Well, you see, my father was very firm about keeping our jaunt to Fhirdiad as discreet as possible…”

“If you think about it, this would probably draw less attention,” Ingrid mused, “It’s well known throughout the Kingdom that Felix, Sylvain, and I are close. And a band of knights traveling with three children of important nobility would be expected, don’t you think? And we’ll be accompanying you to the Institute, where some of our close friends learn and research new magical theories. If anything, I think the citizens of Fhirdiad, and anyone else who came across us, wouldn’t think twice.” Her green eyes were stern as they rested on Miklan, who clenched and then relaxed his hands before letting out a breath of laughter.

“Of course, Lady Galatea,” he bowed more formally now, “It would be a pleasure to have you along for the journey.”

She turned to her knights and commanded, “Saddle my horse for me, please. We wouldn’t want to keep Miklan and the others waiting.”

“Yes, my Lady,” the knights answered, hastily bowing before scurrying away.

Miklan cleared his throat and announced, “I will go and see how the preparations are coming along,” before going over to greet the Gautier knights working on the carriage.

He watched his brother for a moment before looking up at his friends. “I’m confused… I didn’t think you were going to meet with His Highness after your stay in Fraldarius.”

“I wasn’t,” Ingrid answered with a shrug of her shoulders.

“But—”

“Byleth and I asked her to come.” Felix interjected, crossing his arms firmly over his chest defensively, like he expected a fight.

He incredulously asked, “Why?” 

“Because we don’t trust Miklan,” Byleth quietly explained, “And the more fighters we have with us, the better.”

“I told you—”

Byleth knelt down in front of him, and her gaze was intense enough to stop the words in his throat. “I know you don’t think it’s him, and it might not be, but if it is…” her jaw clenched as she shut her eyes for a few long moments, “… if it is, we’re going to be ready. If he has something planned for us, having Ingrid along will only make things harder for him.”

He quietly hissed, “And you’ve all been planning this behind my back?”

“Not behind your back,” Felix scoffed with a roll of his eyes, “I just know how touchy you get when Miklan comes up.”

“I…” he shut his mouth, not knowing what to say. Warmth filled his chest and he suddenly felt overwhelmingly loved and cared for, and he didn’t know how to handle the feeling.

Ingrid crouched down to drape an arm over him. Her fair features showed far too much sorrow as she softly said, “I wish I would have known about what Miklan was doing to you sooner... But I promise I won’t let him do anything to hurt you, ever again.”

His heart seized in his chest. “Ingrid…”

“It’s going to be okay,” she kindly assured, and then stood to clasp hands with Byleth. “It’s a fine plan. I hope it doesn’t prove to be necessary, but I’m glad to help in any way I can.”

“Be safe,” Byleth quietly warned, scanning their surroundings to make sure no one was listening to their conversation, “If Miklan is truly planning something, you’re a variable he hasn’t accounted for. It’s one thing to cover up the death of a mercenary, a dog, and a second son… but it’s another thing entirely to assassinate the heir to a prominent family.”

“I trust my men,” Ingrid assured with a nod of her head, “You just make sure Felix and Sylvain are safe.”

“I don’t need looking after,” Felix grumbled as he looked off to the side, “I’m here to protect Sylvain, as well.”

  
Rather inconveniently, haziness crashed through his mind as he wavered and began to fall. Byleth was quick to react and caught him before he could fall down the last few stone steps. He stared up at his worried friends, the ones who truly cared for him more than he had ever realized, as his mind went blank and blank and blank and…

He realized he was panting excessively while he slowly became aware, and distantly he could feel someone’s fingers scratching somewhere near his ribs, but his head felt too heavy to lift. He was stuck on his back, legs in the air and his belly exposed. They jostled, and he slowly realized they were most likely in the carriage. He tried to look around, tried to move, tried to stop his obnoxious panting, but he couldn’t seem to do any of that.

The next jostle of the carriage lolled his head to the side, and he saw Byleth and Miklan sitting on the other side of the carriage. Miklan was looking out of the small window in the side wall, but Byleth was looking at him. Her eyes widened slightly, and she shifted on the seat until she could lean forward to scratch along his head. 

“Sylvain?” He wanted to move, wanted to say something, but he still couldn’t. He was starting to panic—his heart was racing in his chest and the sound of his panting became more erratic. The scratching stopped, and she looked up at someone who was out of his frame of vision. “I think he’s back, but he’s not saying anything.” 

Miklan’s head turned toward them, his face carefully neutral. “What do you mean?”

Byleth ignored him, instead choosing to get down on her knees on the floor of the carriage so she was directly in front of him. She scratched him as she whispered, “It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” He could tell she was trying to be comforting, but her worry was still evidenced in her tone. The panic within him swelled, apparently enough for him to start whimpering. The pathetic sound happened over and over again, as he continued to try and move, or try to say something. He wanted to tell her he was going to be okay, if only so that worried look on her face would go away. 

Byleth shifted and her face was no longer in his frame of vision as she warned, “I’m going to move you, okay?” A hand cradled the back of his neck, causing his head to loll back uncomfortably, as another scooped over him until she managed to roll him onto his stomach on the plush seat of the carriage.

He could now see that Miklan was watching the proceedings with interest, his eyes carefully surveying every move Byleth made. He asked, “What did you mean, ‘you think he’s back’? Wouldn’t he say something to let us know?”

“I can tell by his eyes,” Byleth tersely explained, hovering in front of his face so he could no longer see Miklan, “It’s in the way his pupils dilate. He said he was having trouble moving when he was coming out of it yesterday. It must be getting worse each time it happens.”

“We have to be arriving in Fhirdiad soon, right?” Felix’s voice fretted. He realized that must be the person beside him that was scratching his ribs. Who knew the swordsman had it in him?

Miklan asked, “Can he hear us, then? Does he know what’s happening?” He whimpered again, and he heard Miklan’s intake of breath.

“That episode was almost four hours,” Felix panicked, there was a click, and he wondered if the swordsman had brought a timepiece along or something. All he could see was Byleth as she fussed over him, scratching his head in the way he always enjoyed and shifting him slightly in what was most likely an attempt to make him comfortable, or busy her hands. 

She cooed, “It’s going to be okay, don’t stress.” Whether she was saying that for his benefit or for Felix’s, he wasn’t sure. “Try to focus for me, okay? Take some deep breaths.” She inhaled deeply through her nose, and then exhaled deeply through her mouth like she was providing a demonstration.

He closed his eyes and tried to do as she said. He tried to focus on his breathing instead of trying to move, and slowly the sound of his erratic panting eased, until he let out a deep and somewhat steadying exhale. Someone smoothed a hand down his side, while another hand scratched along his ears. Byleth whispered, “That’s better.”

He opened his eyes again and weakly slurred, “Hey…”

Byleth’s sigh of relief was both heartbreaking and comforting as she leaned forward to hug around his head. She pulled back and asked, “How do you feel?”

His voice still sounded rough as he croaked, “Tired.”

“None of this makes any sense!” Felix loudly griped, the hand on his side leaving before a thud sounded out. He glanced over and realized the swordsman must have punched the seat cushion. “Why would it make it hard for you to move or speak when you’re back?”

“Maybe he’s losing control of the body,” Miklan mused, his hand curled around his chin in a way that conveniently covered his mouth. He could only imagine the cruel smirk on the other side of his hand. Byleth turned to look at his asshole brother, making it so he couldn’t see her face.

She reluctantly agreed, “That could be one explanation.”

He chuckled weakly, causing her to look back over at him. He slurred, “Fabulous… Sounds like… fun.”

“I told you we are going to get this figured out,” Byleth attempted to assure him. He raised his head and slowly moved to standing, swaying slightly as the carriage jostled again. Byleth’s hand moved to steady him, and he leaned against it for a moment before moving away to shake out his fur. The action helped soothe him a bit, and he turned his head to see Miklan’s gaze still firmly on him.

Suddenly there was the sound of a violent explosion in front of the carriage, and he could hear the sounds of panicked shouts coming from some of the knights in their caravan. Miklan stammered out a, _“What’s happening?_ ” as Byleth shot to her feet, opening a panel in the front of the carriage before slamming it shut as the sound of another explosion went off. She turned toward Felix and commanded, “Stay here!” before throwing open the carriage door.

Felix immediately objected, “I’m coming with you!” 

She barked, “Stay with Sylvain!” before slamming the door shut. Felix moved to the panel at the front of the carriage, Miklan bending out of the way so he could look out. Some odd scent lingered in the carriage, and it made his heart race. The word _fear_ echoed in his head.

The clash of steel proceeded another explosion, this time behind them. He recognized the sound now—it was the sound of a Bolganone spell going off, meaning the enemy must have brought mages with them. He heard Ingrid shout, “Defend the carriage!” before a man let out an agonized scream. Felix closed the panel and scrambled back to sit by him as his whimpers echoed through the carriage. The swordsman pulled him into his arms, but he could hardly pay attention with the sounds of people dying filled the air. 

The carriage shook violently as something seemed to try and push it onto its side. Felix hit the wall hard because his arms had been around him so he wasn’t able to brace himself as Miklan had. He hissed slightly at the pain, but quickly righted them as soon as the carriage stopped moving. He realized it was probably some sort of powerful Wind Spell, or perhaps multiple Wind spells, as it happened again. There was the sound of air moving violently as the carriage fell onto the side that had the door with a terrible groan. All three of them let out panicked shouts, followed by the sound of Miklan letting out a stream of curses. Felix pulled him to his chest as they were laid out on what was now the bottom of the carriage and frantically asked, “Are you okay?”

He panted, “Yeah, you?”

“I’ll be fine,” the swordsman groaned, trying to move so he was sitting up.

He turned to his brother and called, “Miklan?”

“I’m fine,” he angrily hissed, his hand held to his head. When he pulled it away, there was blood on it. “Damn them all to the Eternal Flames.”

“We’re trapped,” Felix noticed with another groan.

There was a thud above them, and Felix attempted to move him behind his body as the small panel that used to be a side window opened above them, revealing a hauntingly familiar face. “Hey, pretty boy,” she cooed, giggling maliciously, “Well… I guess I’ll have to call you something else now, won’t I?”

He growled, “Kronya.” Felix backed him up against the wall, trying to shield him from whatever Kronya was going to do.

She sang, “Ahhh… did you miss me?”

“Do you ever shut up?” a man’s voice droned, before Kronya’s face vanished, replaced by the man with the white half mask that he and Byleth had seen in the woods when he killed Jerry’s men. Magic formed in the man’s hands, and in a flash of pink light, Miklan vanished.

Outside the carriage, Kronya growled, “You!” and the man turned away, the back of his flaxen ponytail the only thing they could see through the small panel.

He heard Byleth shout, “Get away from him!” and his heart faltered in his chest. There was the slight ringing sound of Felix’s blade leaving its sheathe before the raven-haired swordsman leapt to his feet and attempted to stab at the man hovering above them.

The man in the half mask turned back toward them, easily avoiding Felix’s blade, and chuckled darkly. “I have a more worthy opponent to pursue,” his deep voice told them, before his head disappeared.

He frantically murmured, “No no no no no no,” as he stared out to window above them. All he could see was patches of sky between tree line. Would the Fraldarius knights be able to provide air coverage with the trees covering the road like that? Where was Byleth? Where was Ingrid? Were they alive? Were they safe? Felix’s breathing was uneven as he crouched down in front of him.

“Byleth… Ingrid… they’re going to—"

“It has to be Miklan,” Felix growled, rage twisting his features as he let out a shout of frustration, “That’s why they warped him out! THAT SON OF A BITCH! YOU HEAR ME MIKLAN?! I’M GONNA KILL YOU MYSELF!” His furious shouting gained no reply, only the sounds of battle could be heard outside the walls of the carriage they were trapped in.

Another thud sounded on the top of the carriage, and he reflexively cowered back against the wall until Ingrid’s face popped up with a look of determination and an axe in her hand. “Cover your eyes!” Felix curled around him as the "whump" of an axe splitting wood repeated over and over. It stopped as Ingrid shouted, “Come on! We’ve got to go!” 

Felix picked him up and lifted him above his head to Ingrid’s outstretched arms. She grunted in exertion as she pulled him out and then set him down outside the hole she’d created, immediately reaching down for Felix next. The scene before him was utter chaos. Knights and enemy rogues were waging battle against one another as part of the forest that lined the road burned from the fire spells that had been cast. Chunks of the dirt road had been torn up by the Bolganone spells, and the static of Thunder spells was heavy in the air. Dead knights and rogues were littered everywhere, they’re faces frozen in looks of agony and terror.

He immediately turned, seeking out Byleth to try and see if she was okay, and his breath left him in a painful rush. She and Kronya were fighting a few yards up the road, her blue eyes burned with furious determination as she parried and counterattacked Kronya’s long, curved obsidian daggers. The man in the half mask seemed to be circling toward, stopping long enough to cut down a Fraldarius knight who tried to intercept him on their grounded pegasus.

Ingrid let out a hissed breath as she worked to pull Felix out of the overturned carriage, and only then did he notice the perimeter of Galatea knights guarding the carriage, fighting off the enemies that were coming toward them. He called “Look out!” as an archer drew an arrow, aimed at Ingrid where she hunched over. He stepped in front of her and the archer paused long enough for a Fraldarius knight to swoop down and strike with their lance. 

Felix scrambled out of the hole, breathing heavily from exertion. “We need to run!” he panted, “You need to get out of here!” A distinctly female pained cry reached his ears, and he turned to find Byleth, with her sword lodged in Kronya’s chest, as the ginger-haired monster dropped to her knees. The man in the half mask began to run toward Byleth with his sword raised to strike.

He shouted, “Byleth! Look out!” Byelth’s head swiveled, spotted the man in the half mask, and she immediately planted a foot on Kronya’s shoulder to kick her off her blade. 

“We need to go!” Felix called again, and he realized the swordsman had already slid off the side of the carriage and was waiting for him, arms outstretched. When he hesitated, Ingrid shoved him off, and Felix caught him with a somewhat pained “oof”.

Ingrid leapt down onto her horse and cried, “This way!” Felix put him down, but he was distracted by Byleth, who had turned to parry the man in the half mask’s blade. 

“We have to help Byleth!” he pleaded, eyes wide with horror as he watched the man land a strike to her shoulder. Felix growled a curse and stooped to pick him up, still panting from exertion as he ran to follow Ingrid into the thicket of trees that lined the road, looking for cover. The Galatea knights formed a defensive line at the tree line behind them, making it so he could no longer see Byleth as they fought off the enemies that had started to pursue them.

“She told me to get you out of here!” Ingrid called back. There was a note of sympathy or regret, but it was mostly drowned out by the determination in her tone.

Felix panted, “I have to put you down! You’re too heavy!” He dropped him, and he scrambled to his feet, turning back toward where Byleth was hopefully still fighting, but Felix grabbed him and turned him to look at him.

His childhood friend had a look of sympathy as he hurriedly said, “I know you’re worried, but she said that if anything happened, we had to get you out, even if it meant her being left behind.”

“I can’t do that!” he desperately cried, “I can’t just leave her!” His pleas were cut off as Ingrid let out a panicked scream, and he and Felix turned to see her falling off the back of her horse as it stood on its back legs with a terrified bray. Felix rushed forward as the horse ran off, only to freeze as Miklan and a group of five Gautier knights stepped toward them. Ingrid groaned in pain as she clutched at an arrow in her shoulder and tried to scoot back towards them.

Felix drew his sword and leveled it at Miklan as he roared, “You bastard!” Miklan laughed at them cruelly as the Gautier knights stalked toward them, weapons drawn.

“Miklan! What did you do?!” He stared at the incoming knights, fear and betrayal roiling in his chest. There were footsteps behind them, but with the nocking of an arrow from the betraying Gautier knight, whomever was coming to try and save them was killed.

The bastard chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious, baby brother?”

“You did this?!” His breathing was uneven, and the panic making it hard to concentrate. “Why?!”

“It was supposed to be easy,” Miklan ranted, his honey eyes dark and cruel as he clenched his fists at his sides, “They were supposed to change you and then deliver you straight to me. I was supposed to watch as you slowly lost your humanity, and turned into the sniveling _mutt_ you are. But no! That _bitch_ had to get in the way and ruin all of my plans!” He laughed again, the sound terrifying as Felix stepped in front of him in defense. “Don’t you worry, baby brother, I’ll take really good care of her. Maybe I’ll even make you watch before I kill you.”

He yelled, “Why not just kill me in the first place?! Why go to all this trouble?!” Ingrid stumbled to her feet once she reached them, her lance held in her working arm as the other hung at her side.

“I considered it,” Miklan hummed in mock contemplation, “But then I thought, ‘Wouldn’t it be _nice_ to have you stick around? Wouldn’t it be _nice_ if you were a mutt I could kick around, who had to beg me for every little thing you needed? Wouldn’t it be _nice_ if the stuck-up brat who stole everything from me just by existing, had to watch as I took it all back?’ So, I got in contact with some new friends. It’s really too bad I have to kill you all now, but I suppose I’ll just try to enjoy it.”

“You aren’t going to hurt him,” Ingrid swore, lifting her lance. Miklan laughed at her, the sound becoming even more amused as a flash of pink light appeared beside him, and in it…

“Byleth!” He and Felix both screamed as Byleth was pushed forward, and the mercenary fell flat on the ground. _No no no no no…_

“I told you not to kill her,” Miklan scoffed, sounding more annoyed than anything else.

The man in the half mask gave an annoyed grunt and walked the necessary steps until he could grab her hair and pull her up onto her knees as she cried out in pain. “She is not dead,” the man droned, “What is it you plan to do with her? She was a worthy opponent.”

Miklan moved to hover over her, smiling cruelly. “You did this to him,” she rasped, her voice weak even when her eyes burned with hatred.

“Are you still going to hunt me down?” Miklan taunted.

“I already killed Kronya,” she hissed, spitting blood into Miklan’s face, “That means you’re next.” 

Miklan stroked her face as he crooned, “You are going to be so much fun.” He laughed as he wiped Byleth's blood off his face with a clean handkerchief. 

He stepped in front of Ingrid and Felix and begged, “Let them go, Miklan! It’s me you want. I’ll do whatever you want me to… just PLEASE let them go!”

“So they can run home to their daddies and tell them what they’ve seen? Not likely.” Miklan clicked his tongue condescendingly and strolled through his men as he sneered, “They’ve cast their lot with you, and now… now they are going to die for it.”

Hoofbeats sounded out behind them—back toward the road—and Miklan looked past them in confusion. “Did you take care of everyone, Jeritza?” 

“You’ve taken too long with your gloating,” the man droned, sounding bored as he paced backward. His hands lit up with magic and he opened his mouth to say something further, but it was cut off when a familiar-looking knife pierced his throat. He grabbed it with both hands, staring down at Byleth with wide eyes, then fell backward.

“You BITCH!” Miklan roared grabbing Byleth by the throat, he ran toward them, watching as Byleth struggled against him, but she couldn’t do much while wounded and on her knees. Her face was turning a violent shade of red as she clawed at Miklan’s hands.

Horses trampled through the trees, and he heard Glenn’s voice order, “Take Miklan alive!” 

He yelled, “Let her go!” as he threw himself into Miklan’s side. All three of them tumbled onto the ground, and Felix appeared at his side, grabbing Miklan’s arms and pinning him to the ground. 

His older brother thrashed on the ground as he roared, “NO! You piece of shit! You can’t do this to me! Let me go!” There was a thud and Miklan went quiet, but he wasn’t watching to see what happened, he was too busy scrambling to Byleth’s side. 

“Byleth!” He hovered over her as she coughed. Her face was pale, and when he scanned her body, he noticed that she had been stabbed through her torso, and was bleeding profusely. “I’m so sorry,” he cried, “I’m so so sorry.”

“You’re okay,” she rasped, reaching up to place a hand on his head, “It’s going to be okay.”

“You’re hurt,” he cried, moving as close as he possibly could.

“’S fine…” she whispered, her eyes slipping closed as her hand fell back to the ground.

He screamed, “Byleth!” 

“Let me have a look!” Glenn knelt at her other side, and pressed his fingers to her pulse. She must have still had one, because he started unbuckling what was left of her breastplate with Felix’s help and pulling up her shirt so he could better see the wound. The man in the half mask must have stabbed her all the way through, because the wound was gruesome as Glenn pressed down on it with glowing hands. The smell of her blood mixed with the smell of her was overwhelmingly terrifying.

“You have to be okay,” he pleaded, feeling useless as he dipped his head to her neck and rubbed his face against hers, “You can’t die, do you hear me?! You promised. You said you always keep your promises, and you promised you were going to be with me until I was turned back. You can’t die!”

Felix murmured, “Syl…”

“She can’t die!”

“Syl, you’re in the way!” The raven-haired swordsman pulled him away from Byleth, pulling him to his chest as another knight took the place where he had been standing, adding his magic to Glenn’s.

He began to scream as haziness swept over his mind, the sound cutting off as he went limp in Felix’s arms. He tried to focus, repeating Byleth’s name over and over in his mind, but it was no use. His eyes slipped closed as his mind went blank and blank and blank and… 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain wakes up having finally arrived in Fhirdiad... however, things don't turn out the way that he had hoped.

As he swam toward consciousness, he could hear warped voices somewhere nearby. He wrestled his eyelids open, only to find that his eyesight was blurry. It cleared slightly with each blink, until the scene in front of him was finally brought into focus. 

The first thing he noticed was that it was nighttime—the room he was in was lit by candles scattered about the room. Whatever he was lying on was cushioned and warm, and there was something solid against his side. He also knew that he definitely wasn’t alone in the room, even if he couldn’t see who else was there. All that he had in his frame of vision was the iron framing of what looked like the foot of a bed, and a window draped with royal blue curtains, the darkness of the evening barely visible where someone had failed to shut them completely.

_Byleth…_

Everything came back to him in a startling rush. The attack, Miklan’s betrayal, Byleth’s grievous injury, it all played through his mind as his heart began to beat furiously in his chest. _Where is Byleth? Is she alright? She has to be alright! Where is Felix, Ingrid, and Glenn? Is everyone okay? Where are we? Are we in Fhirdiad?_

Someone must have noticed the way his breathing picked up, because he heard footsteps coming toward him. He tried to move, tried to say something, but he couldn’t seem to do it. It was so hard to focus…

_“Try to focus for me, okay? Take some deep breaths.”_

His heart ached as he remembered Byleth’s words. He shut his eyes and tried to picture her as she had been just before the attack—tried to picture how she took deep breaths with him, with her kind eyes and gentle touches. He focused on the image as he fought to control his breathing, slowly gaining the ability to focus. When he opened his eyes, he was relieved to find that Glenn was in front of him. 

_At least Glenn is safe. If he’s safe, it means that Felix and Ingrid probably are, too._

The realization did a lot to help him calm down, and slowly whatever Glenn was saying became less warped. 

“— is alright, Sylvain. You’re safe, so are Felix, Ingrid, and Byleth. They told me you might not be able to move or talk at first, but that’s okay. I’m right here, alright?” The older Fraldarius’ blue eyes shone with kindness as he reached out to pat his head. “I’m going to move you a bit, and then I think you’ll feel much better.” Glenn stood, and strong arms wrapped around him until he was lifted from the soft surface of the bed. 

Glenn turned him until Byleth’s still form came into view. He whimpered softly, the sound escaping without his control. “She’s okay,” Glenn’s deep voice assured, “I was able to get her healed enough to get her here. She’s being kept asleep until her body recovers a little more, but Linhardt says she should make a full recovery.” Strong arms set him down beside her, shifting him until he could see Byleth’s resting face.

His anxiety immediately eased, almost like magic. He let out a deep sigh, and Glenn chuckled softly as soon as he heard it. He couldn’t see the Fraldarius heir, but he could hear him as he said, “You two had everyone a bit worried there, but we’re safe now. I’m going to go and let everyone know that you are awake, now. I promise I’ll be right back.”

Footsteps sounded and faded as Glenn walked away, but his attention had already turned fully to Byleth. _“Everyone is okay. Everyone made it out alive.”_ He repeated it to himself like it was a mantra as he worked on trying to move, slowly gaining the ability to make his tail wag—or maybe that was due to the relief he felt that everyone was safe. 

It took a lot of concentration, but eventually he was able to open his mouth and slur, “Byleth…” He knew she wasn’t going to move—Glenn had already told him that she was under some sort of magic-induced sleep so she could recover—but it was still disheartening when his use of her name didn’t earn so much as a relieved sigh. Footsteps came from somewhere in the room, and he startled. He had thought he was alone with Byleth.

“Fascinating…” a familiar voice mumbled. Moments later, a face he had seen just a few days prior to this mess walked into view. Linhardt curled a hand near his chin as he commented, “It’s just as Felix said—your pupils dilate differently when you become aware… How peculiar.” The mage lifted his head gently, turning it this way and that as his analyzing gaze pierced straight through him.

He groaned slightly, just managing to slur, “Hey…”

“Sylvain,” the mage greeted curtly with a nod of his head, “I’d go through the standard pleasantries, but I’ll wager they wouldn’t be appreciated, so I’ll abstain.” He placed his head back on the bed, fortunately with Byleth still in his peripherals.

He slowly managed, “Thanks… for… helping…”

“You’re welcome. I have to confess that I was hoping to never heal wounds like that, ever again.” Linhardt sighed in a put-upon way as he folded down the sheet that was covering Byleth’s body. Once the thin fabric was moved, he could see the bandages wrapping her chest, her shoulders, and down her torso. Linhardt’s hands began to glow with healing magic as he explained, “She’s recovering smoothly. I anticipate being able to wake her in a day or two. Unfortunately, she lost a lot of blood from multiple wounds in her torso and arms. As such, her body could use the extra rest.”

This time when he spoke it was a little bit clearer, though it still required quite a bit of concentration to get his mouth to move correctly. He quietly joked, “She could… probably use the extra rest… anyway.”

“Ingrid and Felix told me you’ve had a rough go of things since we last saw one another,” Linhardt mumbled with a nod of his head, still focusing on Byleth’s wounds. They hadn’t spent much time together at Hilda and Caspar’s wedding, mostly due to the fact that they hadn’t been terribly close at the Academy. Sylvain had stuck with the Blue Lions for the most part, other than a few of the students from the other nations that caught his eye. Linhardt was a budding Crest researcher, not to mention male, thus the sleepy green-haired mage hadn’t been one of them.

His chuckle sounded rough, like he hadn’t used his voice for days rather than it being only hours ago. He sighed, “You could say that.”

Running footsteps, followed by a small crash and a female exclamation of, “Who put that crate there?!” sounded out in the hallway. Linhardt rolled his eyes and mumbled, “And that would be Annette.”

He tested out his ability to move, and found that he was slowly able to move to standing, turning toward the door just in time to watch Annette fly into the room and wrap him up in an enthusiastic embrace. He wheezed, “Hey, Annette.”

“Sylvain!” she cheerfully cried, easing her death grip enough to pull back and look at him. “Oh my goodness, you’re so cute!” She scratched his ear, and because it was Annette, he decided to make a show of his tongue lolling out as he started to pant and kick his back leg. She giggled at his antics, before quickly becoming serious. “I’m really sorry about everything. I can’t believe all of the crazy stuff that has happened to you!”

“Think you’ll be able to help me? I’d certainly owe you one.”

“Of course!” she chirped, a bright smile on her face. She leaned down to kiss the top of his head before letting him go. “We’ve got a team of people working on a cure already.”

He released a relieved sigh, and felt the weight on his shoulders ease slightly. “Thank you, Annette.”

“So, it’s true,” he turned to the doorway to see Dimitri, Crowned Prince of Faerghus, standing there, frozen in shock—his eyes wide and face slightly paler than usual. The Prince was dressed down for the most part, still wearing a travel cloak as if he had just arrived. Perhaps he just had. “I must confess, when I first received Lord Rodrigue’s letter I thought it might be some sort of terrible joke.”

He swallowed heavily before replying, “I sincerely wish it was, Your Highness.”

“Enough of that,” Dimitri wearily sighed, walking over to stand in front of him as Annette walked around to the other side of the bed to allow them space to speak with one another, “You know you don’t need to worry about bothersome titles when we are in a setting like this.”

“Right,” he chuckled nervously, “Sorry, Dima.”

A sad smile spread across the blonde’s face at the nickname, before he then dipped his head. “I want you to know that we have Miklan in custody at Castle Blaiddyd, as well as the last of the rogues that survived the assault. A battalion is being led by Gustave himself to go and notify your father of the events that have transpired, and I believe that Lord Rodrigue has been sent for, as well. Miklan has refused to give any useful information; as such I’ve given Gustave instructions to have your brother’s things searched, so we may root out whatever remains of your brother’s rabble.”

He stammered, “Miklan… he’s… alive, then?” He vaguely remembered Glenn giving the order to take Miklan alive, but he had silently hoped that things would be over already. Miklan being alive meant that if he was turned back, there would still be the task of sentencing… and most likely the execution of his older brother.

Dimitri’s eyes narrowed as his hands clenched into fists. “For the time being.” He didn’t want to consider such things at the moment. Not that it would matter if he wasn’t changed back in time…

_Alright, even worse train of thought._

Felix scoffed, “I wish I could have just killed him myself,” as he entered the room, followed by Ingrid (who, he was concerned to see, wore a sling on her right arm), and Glenn. Felix immediately made his way over to sit beside him, draping an arm over him. “Byleth is going to be so pissed that he’s still alive.”

Dimitri’s eyes flitted over to Byleth as a smirk curled his lips. “So, this is the illustrious mercenary I’ve heard so much about from Lord Rodrigue?” He chuckled heartily and commented, “I must admit, she’s not quite what I pictured.”

He failed to keep the defensiveness from his tone as he asked, “What do you mean?”

Dimitri blushed slightly as he nervously confessed, “Well… only that she is quite beautiful. I was expecting a hardened mercenary, not…” he waved vaguely toward Byleth’s sleeping form.

Felix snickered before teasing, “Don’t let her looks fool you, she’d kick your ass either way, Dima,” earning a groaned, “Felix…” from Ingrid as she pinched the bridge of her nose with her uninjured arm.

“But she’s so… small,” Dimitri stammered, the blush spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. It was a well-known fact that Dimitri didn’t handle delicate things well. Regardless of the fact that she was fragile right now, he had certainly mislabeled Byleth in his mind.

Glenn clapped a hand onto his shoulder with a laugh. “She took me down with ease, Dima. She may be small, but she is a force to be reckoned with. This is the Ashen Demon, after all.”

“The Ashen Demon?” The blonde’s eyes blew wide as his head swiveled down to look at him. “You mean to tell me you were rescued by the Ashen Demon? Of Jeralt the Blade Breaker’s company?”

“And he was rejected by the Ashen Demon,” Felix snickered as he bumped him with his shoulder, “Syl says she pinned him to a bar top when they first met.”

He grumbled, “She nearly broke my arm…” He was sure he was red beneath his fur. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of the teasing, as most of the time he was the one doing it.

Dimitri let out an amused chuckle before quickly sobering. His eyebrows drew in with concern as he asked, “How is she doing?” 

Linhardt cleared his throat and they all turned to look at the green-haired mage. “She is recovering smoothly, Your Highness. I will continue to monitor her, but I believe we should be able to wake her tomorrow… the next day at the latest.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Dimitri nodded, “Thank you, Linhardt.”

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” Linhardt bowed slightly before walking over to another bed that sat against the wall on the other side of the room, and lying down. _Predictable_.

Dimitri looked down to him as he promised, “We shall make sure she is adequately compensated for all that she has done for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus.”

He nodded hesitantly. “Thanks, Dima.” 

Dimitri nodded right back to him before looking between all of those present and requesting, “I would like to hear all that transpired, if you wouldn’t mind telling the story again.”

He told Dimitri the beginning of his messed-up tale—meeting Byleth at the tavern, picking up Kronya, being dragged to the room upstairs, Byleth’s intervention, being found by her the next day, Jerry and his men, the man in the half mask, and the journey up to Fraldarius territory. Glenn filled him in on the fact that Kronya and the man in the half mask were both, in fact, dead. A few of the Fraldarius battalion that had survived the attack had stayed behind to search the site for any valuable information while the rest headed on to Fhirdiad, but they were unable to find much of anything. 

Felix jumped in shortly after to talk a little about their time at Fraldarius, their plan to leave early, Miklan’s intervention, and subsequent weird behavior. The younger Fraldarius also informed Dimitri and himself that Byleth was the one who presented the entire scheme that ended up being the only reason he and the others didn’t die in those woods; including Ingrid’s last-minute addition to their party and the second group of Fraldarius knights that were led by Glenn to follow close behind in case of an ambush. 

Apparently, Felix had shared more details about Miklan’s cruelty when they were children, and she had been convinced that they needed such a plan. Dimitri’s features, as well as Ingrid’s, Glenn’s, and Annette’s, became dark as Felix explained a few of the details of what Miklan had done when they were younger. He had stayed firmly out of the conversation, instead lying back down as close to Byleth as he could without bringing on merciless teasing.

Then, it was Ingrid’s turn. The blonde pegasus knight sighed heavily before reporting, “I was riding with my men behind the carriage when the first spell went off near the front of our caravan. The enemies ambushed us from the trees, and unfortunately managed to catch us off guard. Byleth was able to help us begin routing them, but they had powerful mages that used Cutting Gale spells to overturn the carriage—I can only assume to trap Miklan, Sylvain, and Felix inside.” She frowned as she reached up to rub at her injured shoulder. “Then the ginger-haired woman and the man with the half mask warped directly onto the overturned carriage. Byleth spotted them and she was able to draw them away so I could get Felix and Sylvain out, but Miklan was already gone.”

“The man with the half mask warped the asshole out of the carriage,” Felix interjected, his eyes burning with rage.

“We attempted to retreat into the trees in effort to escape the fighting, but Miklan was there, waiting for us…” Ingrid trailed off as she looked down to him. 

He lowered his head and mumbled, “He confessed to the whole plan as he was gloating. He is the one who is responsible for everything that’s happened. He hired Kronya to slip me whatever concoction changed me into this. She was supposed to then deliver me to him so he could watch as I slowly lost my humanity, and then keep me around as a dog to kick around.”

Dimitri slowly asked, “So, it’s true, then? The episodes where you become…”

He cut in, “An actual dog? Yeah.”

“The latest episode was about four and a half hours long,” Glenn added.

“And you were only you for less than an hour,” Felix mumbled, tightening the hold he had around him.

“I probably don’t have much longer,” he agreed, turning his head to glance at Byleth before looking back up to Dimitri, “It’s becoming harder to move, speak, or even just follow conversation. Even now, it requires far more concentration than normal.”

Dimitri looked past him and prompted, “Annette?”

She cheerfully reported, “We already have a team researching a way to counteract the affects, Your Highness.”

“Good,” the Prince nodded, “I’d like to make this a priority. For now, all other projects should be put on hold, the Crown will cover any expenses incurred. I will go and speak with Hanneman and the headmaster right now.” Dimitri then looked down to him as he said, “We are going to fix this, I swear it.” 

He quietly responded, “Thanks, Dima.”

“For now, the rest of you should try to get some rest.” Dimitri bowed slightly before adding, “I will see you all shortly.”

“Thank you, Your Highness,” Ingrid bowed.

“I’ll come with you, Dima,” Glenn announced, wrapping an arm around Dimitri’s shoulders.

Felix waved dismissively when his older brother looked toward him. “I’m going to stay here with Sylvain and Byleth.”

He nudged Felix’s shoulder as he insisted, “You don’t have to Fe. You’ve had a long day.” 

“I already got some rest. I’m staying here.” His tone was that one where he just knew Felix had picked the hill he was going to die on, so he sighed and nodded his head. 

As the others left, Annette walked up and nervously said, “While you’re you…” she chuckled nervously and folded her hand in front of her chest, “Do you mind if I take some samples?”

“Samples?”

“Saliva, hair… maybe a little bit of blood?” She raised a ginger eyebrow in question.

He nodded before warning, “You’ll have to hurry… I don’t know how much longer I have.” He had been himself for less than an hour for the attack, and they had already wasted quite a bit of time filling Dimitri in on all that had happened. He was already exhausted, having moved to lie down several minutes ago instead of wasting the effort to remain standing.

“I’ll do blood first, since I could probably get the other two while you’re…”

“Not me. I got it. It’s fine.” He sighed and glanced back at Byleth before sitting and watching as Annette grabbed various very breakable tubes that automatically had him on edge. He was willing to bet that the clumsy mage was going to be taking these samples more than once.

“Soooo…” Annette sing-songed as she readied a needle, “Byleth is _really_ pretty.” 

He hissed slightly as the needle went in, trying to focus on other things. Unfortunately, the other thing his brain wanted to focus on was Byleth, herself. “Yes… I still have eyes, Annette. I know I’m a dog right now, but come on.”

“Welllll…” she drew the word out far longer than was necessary and he knew what was coming, “You seemed really worried about her, even when you were…”

He groused, “A dog. Yes, I’m aware.” No one seemed to be comfortable just saying the words. He understood why, but it was getting slightly aggravating. He also realized it was probably super weird for Annette’s first encounter with him to be when he wasn’t responding to her, and when he was most likely hovering around the injured Byleth and making a fool of himself.

“He’s in love with her,” Felix stated matter-of-factly, looking down at his nails like they were discussing something mundane and not the one thing—other than the fact that he was a dog and that his own brother was the one who ordered him to be turned into this in the first place—that was torturing him.

_When did my life get so messed up?_

“I knew it!” Annette exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air in triumph. “Wait,” she dropped her arms back to her sides, and looked to Felix with a slight pout, “Like for real in love, or Sylvain in love?”

He groaned, “Would you two stop it? Please?”

“Ooooh! For real, in love!” Annette giggled and grabbed a swab, motioning for him to open his mouth, “By the goddess… I wonder how that happened. Did she cast a spell on you or something?” She winked as she stuck the obnoxiously long swab in his mouth, being far too charming despite the fact that he could feel it awkwardly rubbing at the inside of his cheeks. She teased, “I could probably try to find a cure for that one, too.”

As soon as she pulled the swab out, he turned his head away and laid back down on the bed, placing his head between his paws. “No spell. If you think of something to fix it, though, do let me know.” 

“Ahhh, don’t pout like that.” Annette came over to kneel down in front of the bed, pulling him into an embrace. 

“I’m not pouting,” he objected, his words muffled by her shoulder.

Felix stated, “You’re pouting,” in that same blunt way of his. Seriously, had Felix always been this mean? He just went through a near death experience. Didn’t that earn him some sort of reprieve from this weird Felix and Annette interrogation thing?

“Look, it’s not worth—” His words died off as that familiar haziness took over his mind. He managed one last glance of blue hair before his mind went blank and blank and blank and…

When next he woke, he felt like he was surrounded by Byleth’s smell… which made a lot more sense when he finally managed to peel open his eyes, and found that his nose was in her hair. He couldn’t move, and while the urge to panic as he usually did was there, he pushed it away and focused on his breathing like he had last time. 

Slowly, the world around him began to fade in, and he could hear someone… singing?

 ** _“Oh, he once was my friend, but now he’s a doggy_**  
 ** _Gonna mix this all together so his brain is less foggy_**  
 ** _Mixin’ up potions is lots of fun for me,_**  
 ** _Especially when it helps foil his enemy!”_**  
  
Suddenly whomever was singing—his immediate guess was Annette—screamed, “Bah! Felix! Are you spying on me again?”

“Spying?” Felix scoffed, followed by the sound of footsteps traveling further into the room, “I do not _spy_.”

“Then what exactly were you doing?! I thought you were going to get food?!”

Felix reluctantly mumbled, “I did get food, then I heard you singing…”

Annette stubbornly objected, “I was not—”

There was an amused note in Felix’s voice as he asked, “You made up a song about Sylvain?” 

_Well, obviously that’s what she was singing about, dude._ He tried to move, tried to open his mouth to announce the fact that he was lucid and could definitely hear every part of this weird conversation, but he wasn’t able to do anything yet. 

“It’s just a little thing my brain came up with,” Annette defensively insisted, “I sing when I’m working, okay?”

“No more stacks of cakes and steaks—”

Annette cried out, “FELIX!”

Felix continued as if he hadn’t heard her objection. “—and crumbs and yums?”

“You are a…” Annette groaned in frustration, “You are EVIL, Felix Hugo Fraldarius.”

“Evil? Why?”

“You’re making fun of me! You’re going to hold this over my head until I’m old and wrinkled and I die!”

Felix was quiet for a moment, before quietly admitting, “I like it when you sing.”

“You… you like… when I…” the redheaded mage’s stammering was so precious. He could almost imagine what her cute face looked like when she was flustered, and Felix’s awkward nervous face as he looked anywhere but at her.

Begrudging was the best word to explain Felix’s tone as he said, “It reminds me of when my mom used to sing to me, before she… you know…”

“Oh,” Annette whispered, her tone going soft. It was for good reason, too. Felix hardly ever talked about his mom, who had passed away when they were really young. He stayed quiet, mostly out of surprise. Was Felix… flirting? Did Felix like _Annette_?! That just might be the cutest thing he had ever heard, if it were true.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Felix mumbled, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s… it’s okay…” Annette chuckled nervously for a second before blurting, “Will you move Sylvain for me? We mixed a concoction which should slow the process until we can find a way to fix him.”

“Sure.” Footfalls came closer to him, and he tensed slightly as Felix grabbed him and turned him away from Byleth. Their eyes met, and a light dusting of pink formed on the swordsman’s cheeks. He whispered, “You heard all of that, didn’t you?” He managed to nod slightly, and Felix dropped him back down onto the bed so he could groan into his hands. 

Annette cried out, “What?!”

“Nothing,” Felix groaned. Then after a moment’s pause, “He’s awake.”

“Oh good!” Annette chirped, and then froze as her cheeks dusted pink as well, “Oh…” she chuckled nervously, “oops.” _Oh, they are totally crushing on each other. This is ADORABLE._

He managed to slur, “… Cute…” Earning him a shove to his side from the ornery swordsman beside him.

Annette’s eyebrows furrowed in a look of concern. “You’re having trouble again?” He managed a weak nod. “We made this,” Annette held up a vial with a pink-tinted liquid, “We’re hoping it will help slow your deterioration until we can find a cure.” He managed another weak nod, and opened his mouth enough for her to pour it in. The bitter taste caused him to cough and splutter a bit, and Felix left the bed to grab him a bit of jerky which he gratefully chewed on in effort to get the taste out of his mouth.

He slurred out, “Byleth?”

Annette nodded enthusiastically. “Linhardt says she’s healing really well. He should be able to wake her up tonight!” She clapped excitedly and jumped around a bit, making Felix chuckle softly.

He sighed, “Good,” before laying his head back on the bed. He was so tired. Everything ached, and he wasn’t sure if that was from the spell he was under or the crappy day he had yesterday, but he felt awful. As much as he wanted to enjoy what little time he had with his friends before his mind inevitably slipped back under the effects of the spell, he was struggling to muster the energy to do so.

“Eat some more,” Felix prompted, holding another piece of dried meat in front of his nose. “The dog wouldn’t eat earlier. I don’t remember you eating much yesterday, either.”

“Not… hungry.” It was true. Again, he wasn’t sure whether it was the spell or the emotional toll of the last few days, but he had zero appetite. Even the smell of the meat was unappealing.

“Just a little?” Felix moved the meat closer to his mouth and he turned his head away, facing Byleth’s legs on the bed. The swordsman sighed in defeat before asking, “How about we go outside? Or we could go and bother Ingrid? Dima and Glenn went back to the castle for a while…”

“I probably… don’t have long…”

“That’s why we should,” Felix insisted, moving across the bed until he was in his frame of vision. The swordsman was worried, he could see it plainly in his face. As much as he didn’t want Felix to worry, he really was exhausted. “Come on, you’ve been cooped up in here since we got here. The dog won’t even leave this room!”

“I’m just… tired… I’ll be fine.”

“It would probably be good to find some source of stimulation,” Annette offered with a pat to the top of his head. “A walk would be good, or talking to Ingrid and Felix.” Her eyes blew wide as saucers as she exclaimed, “Oh! I almost forgot! I have to get back to the research lab. Hanneman and Lin might have something that will work, we just have to get all of the materials together.”

He raised his head in interest. “When?”

Annette pursed her lips in thought. “Two days? Hopefully less.”

Byleth would hopefully be awake the next time he came back, and hopefully whatever they were working on would change him back soon after that. “Thanks, Annette.”

“No need to thank me,” Annette chirped. She scratched near his ears with a bright smile before waving and hurrying out of the room.

“Is it…” he turned to look at Felix as he paused, “is it really bad?”

He sighed heavily and dropped his head back to the bed. “I’m tired… Everything hurts… I don’t know… how much longer—" He cut off as Felix dropped his head down to bury his face in his fur. 

“You have to be okay.” The words hurt, but the broken waver in the swordsman's voice, coming from someone like Felix who was never vulnerable if he could help it, somehow hurt even more.

“Fe…”

“You have to be okay. You promised.” 

“I know…” He craned his neck until he could rest it closer to Felix’s shoulder. He weakly joked, “How do you feel about having a dog?”

Felix jerked up to glare at him with glistening eyes full of unshed tears. “That’s not funny, asshole.”

He made a motion that was the closest to a shrug as he could manage as a dog. “It was worth a shot?”

Felix scowled as he responded, “It’s not like the dog would be willing to go with anyone but Byleth, anyway.”

He glanced toward the woman in question before turning back to Felix and weakly saying, “About what we talked about… the other day…”

Felix sharply began, “We aren’t—”

“Fe…”

Felix let out a sad sigh and went back to the half embrace they had been doing earlier. “I will…” he quietly promised into his fur. “If you don’t change back… I’ll look out for her. I promise.” He lifted his head and glared as he grumbled, “But I’m not marrying her or whatever bullshit you were spouting earlier.”

“Well, _obviously_ ,” he crooned, sorely missing his shit-eating grin that would be perfect for a moment such as this. “Why would you marry Byleth when you’re crushing on Annette?!” Felix flushed as he quickly turned his face away. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me?! I could have helped you, dude.”

“Why would I ask you for help?” Felix scoffed, crossing his arms defensively. “All you know how to do is pick up random women, sleep with them, and then find ways to never have to speak to them again.” As soon as the harsh words came out, the swordsman looked to him apologetically. “I shouldn’t have—"

He cut off Felix’s apology with a weary sigh. “No, you’re right. What the hell do I know when it comes to making someone fall in love with you?” He batted at Felix knee with his paw before insisting, “I do think she’s interested, though.”

Felix shook his head with a slight pout. He couldn’t remember a time in recent memory when Felix looked this dejected. “She thinks I’m… evil.” 

He chuckled at that. “You know how Annette gets. She was probably embarrassed from the singing and your teasing. I bet the fact that you told her you like her singing helped!” 

“Forget you heard that.” Felix was probably going for an intimidating look, but it was undermined by the flush in his cheeks.

He teased, “I will do no such thing! You guys are _adorable_!”

Felix shoved his head lightly to the side as he grumbled, “You’re the absolute worst.”

He nodded with a huff of laughter. “I’ve heard that once or twice.”

  
He didn’t even remember the hazy feeling happening this time, but here he was swimming back toward consciousness again. He could hear muffled voices—a lot of them—and they sounded… excited? There was a smell in the room… happiness? Excitement? It permeated the air as he slowly became more aware of what was happening.

Byleth was awake, talking with several others in the room. He thought he recognized Dimitri, Felix, Glenn, and Ingrid’s voices in the background as he tried to concentrate on their voices, but he couldn’t parse out what they were saying. Byleth was propped up on some pillows against the head of the bed with his head on her lap, while the others were scattered around the room. No one had noticed that he was himself yet, and he couldn’t do anything to notify them of that fact, so he tried his best to be patient.

The soothing sound of Byleth’s voice—even if he couldn’t understand what she was saying—was enough to make his chest nearly explode with warmth. She was alive! She was okay! No matter what happened, at least he knew that she wasn’t dead because of him. At least he knew that she could go back to her usual life, and be happy. 

She was scratching along his head and his back as she talked to the others in the room. He heard footsteps, and then Byleth lightly pushing his head off of her lap. He managed a whine as his head hit the bed, but all she did was pat him with a soft smile in an effort to placate him.

As he concentrated, trying to understand what it was they were saying, he heard Felix call out, “Wait… I think he’s back!” The swordsman wasn’t in front of him, but he did see Linhardt healing Byleth again, so he assumed that was the reason his head had been shoved off of its resting place in Byleth’s lap. 

He saw Byleth try to sit up to check on him in his peripherals, and watched as she hissed in pain and clutched at her stomach. Linhardt gently helped her to sink back into the pillows and chided, “You may have been healed by faith magic, but your body is still recovering from the trauma. You shouldn’t be moving for at least another day.”

He whimpered without truly meaning to, upset that Byleth wasn’t feeling all the way better yet. It made sense, what with the fact that she had been stabbed through two days ago, but he still didn’t like it. He tried to focus on standing, telling himself that he could do it over and over in his mind, until he finally managed to weakly push himself up… 

Only to fall back down with a weak yelp.

Someone’s hands were on him in an instant, he wasn’t sure who’s because they were standing on the other side of the bed and he was too busy focusing on standing to swivel his head. He eventually realized that whomever it was, they were trying to help him stand up. He pushed up, swaying only slightly with the support he had behind him, and stepped forward until he could bury his nose in Byleth’s neck, making her laugh weakly as she wrapped her arms around him.

She whispered, “I’m glad you’re safe,” into his fur, but he was too busy being overwhelmed by the scent of a happy Byleth to do anything in response.

“Sylvain?” Annette was calling to him, and he reluctantly pulled himself away from his spot nuzzled in Byleth’s neck to look toward her. “We almost have the cure ready, there was just a little complication.” His heart sank as he looked down at the bed. “I’m sorry! I promise we’re still working on it!”

He lifted his head to assure her, “It’s okay.” Annette’s eyebrows furrowed as Felix crawled onto the bed to look at him more closely.

“I don’t get it…” Annette nervously chuckled, looking to the others around the room, “…is he not back?”

He didn’t have time to ponder that, because Felix lightly guided his face toward him. “No, he is… Syl?”

“What? What’s going on?” Felix’s face went pale, as Annette ran around the bed to join Felix, and Linhardt began murmuring something under his breath.

Annette grabbed him and instructed, “Sylvain, if you can understand me… nod.” He nodded, his heart rate speeding up, as the scent in the room quickly shifted to _fear fear fear fear fear_.

Linhardt walked up behind Felix and Annette with a journal in his hand. “Sylvain? Say ‘yes’ for me?”

He nervously said, “Yes,” but it was obvious that it didn’t make anyone feel any better. 

Byleth’s fingers were fisted in his fur as she nervously asked, “He can’t talk anymore?”

He was officially starting to panic as he turned toward her and said, “I’m talking right now! Byleth! Byleth, please!” She pulled him into an embrace as panicked murmurs filled the room, so many that he couldn’t parse them apart while his head was spinning.

“Breath, Sylvain…” Byleth quietly prompted, squeezing him lightly as she hushed those around him. He realized he was hyperventilating again, and he felt like the room was spinning due to the lack of oxygen. 

He couldn’t speak anymore? Did that mean they were out of time? Was it done? Was he going to be forced to stay like this forever? Aware of what was happening, but unable to say anything to those around him? Was that better or worse than fading into oblivion?

“We have to talk to Hanneman immediately,” Annette announced, worry evident in her tone. Linhardt made a noise of assent and hurried footsteps sounded out behind him.

“Sylvain…” Byleth lightly moved him away until she could look into his eyes, “Try again for me, okay? Try to talk?”

He pleaded, “Byleth… Byleth, please… please understand me…” 

He could have sworn he saw tears forming in her eyes before she blinked them away and whispered, “You’re barking… we can’t understand you. I’m… I’m so sorry…” If the room had been spinning before, now it felt like everything had come crashing to a halt. He was trembling, his whole body shaking as Byleth pulled him into another embrace.

“That doesn’t mean it’s too late!” Felix cried. “He’s still aware! That means he’s still in there! There’s still time!”

“I don’t understand…” Ingrid nervously stammered, “Annette said that potion was supposed to stop it from getting worse. He can’t speak anymore! That’s obviously worse!”

“Our panicking is making him panic,” Glenn chided in a soothing tone, “Let’s all try our best to relax. Annette and Linhardt are going to speak with Hanneman, and I’m sure they aren’t going to give up.” 

He heard Dimitri say, “I’m going to see what is happening with the researchers,” but he didn’t move to watch the prince as he, too, walked out of the room. He stayed buried in Byleth’s neck, finding himself unable to bear the thought of seeing everyone’s terrified and concerned faces. He could smell it well enough, coming off of all of them. 

_“It’s not fair!”_ he wanted to cry. _“After everything I’ve survived, I can’t be stuck like this. After everything, I can’t just… be a dog. We got to Fraldarius, we survived Miklan’s attack, we got to Fhirdiad… this CAN’T be it!”_

He pulled his head out of Byleth’s neck and pleaded, “Please! Please, understand me! It’s still me, I’m still me! Please!” He rubbed his head against her cheek, pleading, “Please understand me… please… I should have told you… I should have said something… this can’t be it.”

“I’m sorry,” Byleth’s voice was strained with emotion as wrapped her arms around him and held him still, “I’m sorry… I can’t… I can’t understand… I’m so sorry…”

He pulled against her hold, and she instantly let him go. He whipped around to face Felix, who was staring at him with tears in his eyes. He jumped onto the swordsman, looking between him and Byleth as he begged, “You promised! You promised! You have to look out for her!”

“I know… I know…” Felix weakly responded, “I promised.” He sighed in relief, glad that Felix got the point even if he couldn’t say anything. The swordsman grabbed his head and brought his own closer until they were inches apart as he gritted out, “We aren’t giving up, though. You aren’t gone. Don’t you dare give up!” A rogue tear trailed down the swordsman’s cheek and he rubbed his own cheek against it, trying to comfort and failing miserably as his heart became a heavy weight in his chest.

Glenn softly interjected, “Father is at the castle with His Majesty—he needs to be notified of what is happening. And the Margrave should be here soon if the Blaiddyd battalion left two days ago.”

Panic gripped him again and he looked frantically between Byleth and Felix as he pleaded, “I can’t go with him! I can’t go home! Not like this! Let me stay with you!” to no avail. The smell in the air was still _fear_. He could see the sadness and confusion clearly in their faces.

Felix sorrowfully said, “We can’t understand, Syl…” while placing a hand on his head. 

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to do something… ANYTHING to portray the overwhelming emotions swirling around in his chest, but he couldn’t. All he could manage was that pathetic whine as he sank back down onto the bed and covered his eyes with his paws, praying that this was all a bad dream and he was going to wake up.

The bed shifted, and weight pressed on top of him, not enough to be stifling, but enough to let him know that someone was trying to hug him. Ingrid whispered into his ear, “Don’t give up, okay?” He managed another pathetic whimper as he weakly shook his head. 

What on earth was he supposed to do now?

He either fell asleep, or had another episode, because he could tell that a significant chunk of time had passed when he next opened his eyes. He didn’t have the usual fogginess that accompanied coming out of an episode, and he wasn’t sure whether that fact made him feel better or worse. Would an episode mean they still had time to fix him? Would the lack thereof mean he was stuck like this forever?

He could hear Felix and Byleth whispering, though they were talking too quietly for him to understand what they were saying. He lifted his head to glance over at them, and Byleth immediately smiled, though it was weak.

“Hey,” she quietly greeted, “How do you feel?” 

“Fine,” he attempted to answer, before quickly being reminded by their disheartened features that they could no longer understand him. 

“Come here,” she coaxed, raising her arms. He got to his feet and went to sit between them, not sure whether to feel better or worse when both of them immediately began scratching him. His chest felt heavy at the prospect of this being the rest of his life. He knew that it would probably be worse to just… cease to exist… but still.

“Annette and Dimitri were able to send knights to get the rest of the supplies they need for the cure,” Felix reported, shifting himself to sit up against the head of the bed beside Byleth. “She thinks they’ll have the concoction ready by nightfall.”

He nodded in understanding, not able to do much else.

“Do you want some food? Felix says you aren’t eating?” Byleth’s eyebrows furrowed in worry, and he shook his head before laying down on the bed. His body still ached terribly, and he really hoped that was a good sign, rather than the rest of his life.

_Goddess… my thoughts are getting too depressing._

Felix solemnly told him, “Your father is at the castle.” Nerves shot through him. What would happen if they weren’t able to change him back? Would his father try to take him home? He doubted it would be something his father truly wanted, but he wouldn’t put it past the old man to do it solely to keep up appearances as a loving father. He’d rather stay with Felix… or Byleth. The thought of living out the rest of his miserable existence alone in Gautier was enough to make him wish for oblivion.

He butted his head against Felix’s leg, but Felix just pursed his lips and shook his head, unable to understand what he was trying to convey. 

Realizing that was fruitless, he poked at the shift that Byleth was wearing, looking up at her to try and ask how her wounds were. She placed a hand lightly on her torso and asked, “These?” He nodded, feeling slightly relieved that she was able to understand. “They don’t hurt that bad. I’ve had worse… can’t really think of an instance right now, but that’s okay.” He shook his head, huffing an exasperated breath. “I told you… getting injured is part of the job.” She scratched near his ear, and he looked up at her, noticing how her eyes suddenly went dark. “It was worth it to take out Kronya. I wish I could have gotten Miklan too, but I only had one dagger and I didn’t want the man in the half mask to get away with what he’d done.”

He pushed up to sit on his haunches and pressed his head into the crook of Byleth’s neck. She immediately sighed and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight. The image of Byleth's face twisted in agony as she was pulled onto her knees, her blue hair he was so fond of held in the man in the half mask’s fist, was an image that wouldn’t leave his brain any time soon. Knowing that she was awake, that she was alive, was relieving even if his entire life was falling apart. 

Felix’s voice was strained as he joked, “You’ve got to teach me how to do that. It was so badass.” 

He pulled his head out of Byleth’s neck long enough to send Felix what he hoped was a scathing glare, but gave up and returned his head when all Felix did was snort in amusement. “It’s all in the wrist,” she quietly explained, still holding him, “Maybe I’ll show you some time.”

“What will you do now?” Felix asked. He sat back to analyze Byleth’s features, interested in what she would say.

“I asked His Highness to send a messenger to my father in Remire, letting him know that I’ll be here for at least another day or two more before I can head down to meet him.” He nodded in approval, glad that Jeralt would at least know she was somewhat safe. “I’ll probably buy a horse here in Fhirdiad and head out as soon as Sylvain is back.” She smiled softly at him, but he found he couldn’t look at her anymore. The thought of her leaving just… Well, it didn’t feel good. Her voice was full of confidence he didn’t possess when discussing him being turned back. 

“Stay in Fraldarius!” Felix insisted, lightly bumping Byleth’s shoulder. “It’ll be boring with no one worthwhile to spar with, and I’m sure my father and Glenn would be more than happy to provide you knighthood after everything you’ve pulled off in the last two weeks.”

He looked back up at her face, but quickly looked away again when he found deep pools of blue staring intently at him. She chuckled softly before joking, “Maybe I could whip those Fraldarius knights into shape, and you could finally master Finesse Blade.” She sighed heavily, and placed a hand on his back. “Though, I don’t think I could leave my father. Besides, mercenary work is all I’ve ever known. What would the Ashen Demon do as a knight?” She snorted in amusement, though he didn’t think the joke was particularly funny.

“I wish I could go with you. Traveling, fighting, learning to become stronger… it’s all I’ve wanted for the longest time.” The swordsman’s voice was downright wistful. He looked to Felix in alarm, but Felix just shook his head and groaned, “Don’t give me that look.” 

“It’s up to you,” Byleth sighed. He turned to look at her in offense and she smiled sadly before arguing, “Wouldn’t you want the opportunity to do what you’ve always wished to?” He bowed his head, looking down at the bed instead of at her eyes, those ones that still seemed to look right through him, even when he couldn’t even be understood. “I’d be there to look after him, anyway. I couldn’t let anything happen to your best friend, now could I?” 

Felix groused, “I don’t need looking after.” He notably hadn’t argued against the best friend part. 

“Everyone needs someone to look after them,” Byleth argued, though her tone was soft. He laid down on the bed between them, comfortable in the warmth radiating off of each of them and lulled by the sound of their playful bickering. Byleth was still scratching mindlessly, the feel of her fingers grounding and soothing. 

The hopelessness and anxiety he had been feeling earlier approached the edges of his mind, seeking entrance to his thoughts, but for the moment he attempted to push them away. For the moment he wanted to just… be here, and have that be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear things become less dire next chapter. Haha


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for.....
> 
> Kinda.

_Byleth’s face was twisted in a heartbreaking mixture of agony and fury as she rasped, “You did this to him.” The man in the haunting white half mask still held her up with his fingers fisted in her dusty blue hair, a silent observer to Miklan’s cruelty._

_“Are you going to hunt me down?” Miklan taunted, stalking toward her like a predator that’s snared its, now helpless, prey._

_Byleth hissed, “I already killed Kronya.” She spat at Miklan and some of the blood that was trickling from the side of her mouth splattered across Miklan’s amused features. “That means you’re next.”_

_Miklan’s cruel fingers caressed Byleth’s face in a way that was far too gentle for the sadistically possessive look on his face. Rage burned in his chest as Miklan purred, “You are going to be so much fun.”_

_His older brother turned to him, wiping Byleth’s blood from his face with a handkerchief as he laughed cruelly. Unseen hands grabbed him painfully by the scruff of his neck as Miklan taunted, “Don’t you worry, baby brother, I’ll take good care of her. Maybe I’ll even make you watch before I kill you.”_

_“NO!”_

“Sylvain… Sylvain it’s okay!” In a frantic flurry of movement, he snapped at whomever was touching him, too disoriented to tell what was real and what was not. His sharp teeth closed on flesh, and someone cried out in pain. He released whomever it was and attempted to scramble off the bed, but didn’t get very far before running into someone. His breathing was frantic, and the room was spinning. 

He had to get out. He had to get away!

“Sylvain…” his name was gritted out through clenched teeth, “Sylvain, it was just a nightmare. You're safe.” The familiar voice slowly snapped him out of it, and as his breathing eased, he became more aware. Felix was holding him against his chest, as Byleth sat on the bed a few feet away, pressing her hand to her chest with her other hand.

Horror washed through, like ice traveling through his veins, when he realized she was bleeding. He had… Oh, goddess he had… “Byleth!” He tried to wiggle out of Felix’s hold, but the swordsman held him still. “Byleth, I’m sorry!” She couldn’t understand him! Why was this happening?!

“Shhhhh…” she soothed, smiling gently, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have woken you up like that. Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?! Fuck! I fucking hate this!” He heard the threatening growl his body released, and watched the way Byleth’s features shifted from a gentle smile to something carefully neutral. The thing that stopped him in his tracks was the whiff of _fear_ that hit his nostrils. The growling turned to whimpers as he went slack in Felix’s hold, wishing more than anything that he could run and hide.

He had hurt Byleth. He had scared her.

“I thought my son was supposed to be fond of you?” an unwelcome voice commented from somewhere else in the room. His head perked up, immediately swiveling toward the voice, only to find his father seated primly in a chair across the room. He wore overly elegant finery for their current setting—a finely woven maroon tunic, with a navy-blue cloak that bore gold fastenings and the Crest of Gautier on each clasp—and looked on in open disapproval. How long had he been here? What had he seen? 

“He was having a nightmare,” Felix argued, his voice low and combative as he released his hold on him and he flopped back onto the bed, “He probably didn’t know it was Byleth.” He scrambled to standing, and had to fight his initial reaction to go and check on Byleth. He knew it wouldn’t be a good idea if his father was watching.

“Would you grab my bag for me, Felix?” Byleth was still propped up on the bed, the thin white shift that she was wearing had a few drops of blood on it from the wound he’d accidentally inflicted on her hand. The mattress shifted as Felix climbed off the bed and walked over to grab Byleth’s travel pack. Funny, he hadn’t noticed it was there before. Maybe the knights retrieved it from the wreckage of the carriage and brought it for her.

As soon as she had it in her lap, she pulled out her bandages, as Felix brought a wet cloth from the washbasin to help her clean it. He glanced to his father, who was watching them silently with something critical in his gaze. Byleth bowed her head in deference as she said, “He’s had a stressful week, my Lord. I’m sorry for the additional worry.”

He and Felix both objected, “You don’t have anything to apologize for!” but his wasn’t translated in a way that could be understood. His father hummed in the back of his throat, still taking in the room with his usual pompous air. 

Hazel eyes landed heavily on him, and he fought the instinct to hide himself away. “Are you aware of what is happening now?” He nodded hesitantly and his father’s eyes widened the slightest amount. He was quick to morph his face back into his usual “Margrave Gautier” mask before saying, “Your mother is beside herself with worry. She’s locked herself away in her rooms in Gautier until you are safely returned.” He nodded again, thankful that his face didn’t portray any emotion. 

His mother had a tendency for locking herself away on the slightest whim. His current predicament was no exception.

“Notes were found in Miklan’s study that have led us to believe that his rats were hiding themselves in an abandoned fort near the border between Gautier and Fraldarius territories. How they managed to escape my notice this long, I am not certain, but it is already being handled by His Highness and the elder Fraldarius brother, as well as our most trusted Gautier knights.”

Like he would trust any of them at this point. If there had been a few, who knew how many were loyal to Miklan? Though, their loyalty was probably swayed back toward his father with the fact that Miklan was locked up in one of Castle Blaiddyd’s prison cells. 

He nodded again, not able to do anything else.

“The Dominic girl has informed me that they expect to be able to fix you in a few hours; though I’ve been warned that you may sleep for a while after the effects take hold. I have important business with His Majesty, as such I will await word of your return at Castle Blaiddyd.” Felix huffed an annoyed breath that he hoped his father didn’t hear. If the older man did, he didn’t show it. He nodded again, praying his father would just leave so he could check on Byleth’s hand and try to convey how sorry he was without having the ability to use words.

His father moved to his feet, towering over him in a way that made him feel like he had reverted back to a young and foolish child. “Do you require anything else from me before I leave?” He shook his head no, knowing that even if he did require something, he wouldn’t be able to say anything. His father probably realized this as well, but was at least trying to seem like he was fulfilling the basic courtesies.

His father’s gaze shifted to Byleth, and she bowed her head again, unable to bow fully with her injuries. “In the stables you will find one of our finest bred stallions waiting for you, with more than enough gold and supplies for you and your troupe. Consider it a thank you for your sacrifice.” 

“That is most gracious of you, my Lord.” 

“I’ve been informed that you are the only reason the Gautier line will continue,” his father hummed, looking toward the door as he added, “House Gautier repays their debts. I wish you safe travels back to your father.” He wondered if Byleth heard the silent message of, _“Leave as soon as you are able.”_

It seemed she had. Byleth’s face was a mask of neutrality as she replied, “I am anxious to return to him. I will be leaving as soon as I am cleared to do so.”

His father’s eyes traveled back to him before he said, “I will be back to take you home to Gautier when this is over.” 

Of course, all he did was nod.

He waited until his father’s steps had faded down the hallway to launch himself at Byleth, whimpering a nuzzling into her neck in an effort to say he was sorry; sorry about hurting her, sorry about his father, sorry about all of it. She wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “It’s alright, I know you didn’t mean to.” She got the gist, even if it wasn’t everything.

Felix groused, “Your father is a pompous asshole.” He didn’t bother to nod in response, instead he finally fulfilled the impulse to check Byleth’s hand. His mind told him it smelled fine. ( _Weird_.) Though, he couldn’t do much else with it wrapped the way it was.

“He’s not the worst I’ve come in contact with,” Byleth sighed. She reached over with her uninjured hand and scratched near his ear, and he melted into her side. “I’m not fond of the way he treats you, though.” He shook his head, trying to say it was fine, that he was used to it, but Byleth didn’t say anything more. She pursed her lips and looked down at her lap.

Felix walked around to take up his usual seat on the bed as he asked, “Are you really going to leave as soon as Linhardt says you’re able?”

Byleth hummed, looking out the window—into the darkness outside—and avoiding his and Felix’s stares. “It’s time I get back to my father. He’ll be worried about me until the moment I arrive.” She looked back down at him, patted him gently on the head, and added, “As soon as you’re back, of course. I do still have a promise to keep.”

His heart sank. He couldn’t help it. He knew it was coming, he had known it from the start, but the thought of Byleth leaving still made his chest ache. She had managed to become such an important part of his life in such a short period of time, and the thought of not seeing her every day, the thought of waking up in the morning and her not being there, was too difficult for him to wrap his mind around.

Felix nudged him gently. “Why don’t we go outside for a minute?” He looked back to Byleth, who was digging through her bag, and when she didn’t look up or do anything to object, he reluctantly nodded.

Wandering through the halls of the Institute earned him more than a few odd looks from those that were still wandering the halls despite the hour. Thankfully, Felix was quick to lead him outside, shielding him as much as he was able from the prying eyes of students and research mages. He couldn’t find the energy to mind their stares at the moment, there was far too much on his mind to bother.

The smell of the frozen air outside was comforting, even as a chill ran through him. It had snowed in Fhirdiad while he had been locked away with Byleth in the infirmary, or perhaps there had been snow when he arrived and he didn't remember seeing it. It was nothing compared to what it would look like in a few weeks, however. Right now, it was only the slush of early winter. Soon everything would be covered in deep snow, and the temperatures would get even colder. The darkness of the evening was only broken by the lantern that Felix had snagged before they walked outside

The comfortable silence between them was broken when Felix asked, “You’re just going to let her leave?” He looked up at the swordsman, who was watching him carefully, and slowly nodded. It’s not like there was much he could say to the contrary at the moment. Felix’s tone became sharper as he prodded, “Are you even going to tell her?” It didn’t take much to know what he was implying. He shook his head no, following a side path around the vast grounds of the Institute.

“Why?!” Felix stared at him incredulously, and he let out a heavy breath before meeting his gaze. Why? Because he didn’t have any other choice. His father would never allow him to pursue Byleth, and Byleth had a life of her own to return to. Fate brought her into his life, but it didn’t mean he would get to keep her. He still had a duty to fulfill, one that he was certain his father would be more than eager to force him into after this unsightly detour. It wasn’t like Byleth felt the same…

And if, by some slim chance, she did… Well… he wasn’t sure if he’d rather know or not.

Felix growled in frustration and kicked at a pile of slush, causing the freezing cold perspiration to splatter in front of them. “I can’t believe you’re just going to let her walk away.”

“I don’t have a choice!” Of course, Felix couldn’t understand what he’d said, but the outburst seemed to have gotten his point across. Felix put a hand to his forehead and sighed exasperatedly, but didn’t pester him about it any further.

Even the short walk Felix forced him into was exhausting, and soon after they arrived back at the Institute’s infirmary, sleep pulled at his mind. His brain was foggy, not quite haziness of an episode, but not completely dissimilar. It was late in the evening, and Byleth had managed to fall asleep while they were outside. He was tempted to curl up against her, but when Felix made his way to the bed on the opposite side of the room, he followed.

He curled up at the foot of the bed, placing his body in such a way that he could still see Byleth, and closed his eyes. However, Felix nudged him and he tiredly lifted his head to look at his childhood friend. Felix whispered, “Do you want to tell her? I mean… if it wasn’t for your father or whatever you feel is holding you back, would you want to?” A whimper pulled from his throat, and that seemed to be all the answer Felix needed. The raven-haired swordsman frowned sympathetically, then turned to fluff his pillow, whispered a quiet goodnight, and laid down to sleep. 

He turned his head to watch Byleth as she stirred slightly in her sleep, making the quietest hiss of pain as she unconsciously tried to roll over and found she couldn’t due to her injuries. His eyelids drooped a few times, until eventually he couldn’t keep them open any longer and he fell asleep.

..

Someone was touching him—light touches, there and then gone. However, it was enough to slowly pull him toward consciousness. The first thing he noticed was that his mouth tasted awful, truly worse than even the taste of an Elixir, and he kind of wished whomever was touching him would stop so he could just go back to sleep already.

“Sylvain,” Annette sing-songed his name and he groaned, earning a few soft chuckles. 

Wait… 

He opened his eyes and found Annette hovering over him with the biggest smile on her face. “Wakey wakey,” she cooed, “I need you to follow my fingers.” His eyes tracked the movement unconsciously and she nodded in approval. “Okay, now I need you to try talking.” 

He sighed and shut his eyes, feeling disappointed. He knew he wasn’t able to—

“Will you just look down already?” Felix impatiently snapped.

His eyes shot open and he did as he was prompted—ignoring Glenn’s teasingly whispered, “I thought we were letting him figure it out on his own.” He lifted his hands—HIS HANDS—and flexed them in front of his face, before promptly patting down the rest of his body.

“I’m… I’m…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest and adrenaline from his excitement had his whole body nearly buzzing with energy. HIS BODY.

“I’m back!” He laughed somewhat hysterically and ran his hands over his face, before tousling the hair on top of his head. Before he knew what was happening, he had people piled on top of him, everyone a mess of giggles and elbows and teasing. Felix was closest, and he wrapped his arms around the swordsman, distantly thinking about the fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his best friend. Ingrid crawled further up onto the bed and replaced Felix as soon as the swordsman pulled away from their embrace. He couldn’t stop laughing, and his cheeks were beginning to hurt from what was probably an absolutely foolish grin on his face. 

He met Glenn’s gaze, earning a triumphant smile and a nod, before his eyes flitted to Dimitri and Annette down near his legs. Annette was bouncing around on the bed, obviously too excited to do anything but squeal girlishly, while the prince watched the tangled mess of limbs and joy with a fond smile. 

He was missing someone, though. Felix nodded his head toward the door, and his eyes followed where he’d indicated, finding Byleth dressed in a new breastplate, her traveling clothes, and with her bag slung over her shoulder. His smile died an agonizingly painful death at the strained smile she had on her face, standing near the door, watching everyone else’s excitement. 

Their eyes met, and his heart stuttered. “I can’t call you noble dog anymore,” she commented in a soft voice. He shook his head, not knowing what to say. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, cursing the fact that his normally skilled tongue was failing him spectacularly. 

She was used to that, though… wasn’t she?

“I’m hungry,” Felix interrupted his speechlessness, “I’m going to get food.”

“Me too,” Glenn immediately chimed, grabbing Ingrid’s hand and pulling her off the bed. Annette fumbled through saying she needed to go and report he was alright to Hanneman and the rest of the research team, and Dimitri trailed out with the rest of them, leaving only him and Byleth.

Their eyes hadn’t left each other’s the entire time the others were filing out of the room. He floundered mentally, trying and failing to think of something to say. Eventually, all he managed was a weak, “Hi…”

She let out a breathy chuckle and nodded, her eyes near glistening. “Hi…” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stepped slightly closer. “I have to admit… I had forgotten what you looked like.”

He went to stand, but quickly realized he didn’t have anything on under the blankets that were draped over him. He felt warmth travel to his cheeks and glanced up at Byleth, who walked over with a stack of clothes in hand. “I saved these from the wagon when we left the tavern that first day.” That day left like a lifetime ago. In a way, he supposed that it was.

“Oh.” He took them in shaking hands, looking between the stack of clothing and her face as his brain seemed to just… stop.

Byleth reached out her hand like she might touch him, but she stopped and dropped it back to her side with a huffed laugh. “I… I’m so glad you’re alright.” She smiled that same smile from before, the one that looked strained.

“Byleth…” he reached out for her hand, but she took it a step further and launched herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him tightly. He buried his head in crook of her neck, taking in her smell, which he remembered as slightly different, but still found overwhelmingly comforting. He had wanted to do this for what felt like forever, and he realized with startling clarity that he never wanted to let go. 

However, he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. As quickly as the hug had begun, it ended. Byleth released him and pulled out of his hold with a heavy clearing of her throat. He reached for her again, desperate for more contact even if his tongue still wasn’t cooperating, but she stepped further away. “I… I should get on the road. My father wants me to meet him in Remire. I have a long ride ahead of me.”

His heart sank like a stone into his stomach—the stomach that he quickly realized was empty. “Are you… Are you sure you’re healed enough for the journey?” _Please, stay._

“I’ll be fine,” she quietly assured him, “I’ve traveled while injured before, right?” She chuckled that breathy chuckle he was so enamored by and waved down to the jewel encrusted hilt of the sword on her belt. “Courtesy of His Highness. This breastplate is far fancier than anything I’ve ever owned, as well. I’m sure I’ll be protected well enough to get back.”

He bent forward enough to grab her uninjured hand, and her eyes widened as he pulled her back toward him, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. It felt so good to touch her, like he’d ached to for what felt like his entire life. “Byleth… I…”

 _“I can’t thank you enough.”_ That wasn’t good enough. _“Please don’t leave.”_ He knew she needed to go back to her father. The poor guy was probably worried sick. He had almost lost his daughter a few days ago. _“Stay with me forever.”_ That wasn’t possible for a lot of reasons. It would be selfish of him to attempt to pull her from her own life when he had nothing to offer her. 

_“I love you.”_ Ha. Yeah, right.

While he was still fumbling for what to say, footsteps sounded out in the hallway, and he heard Dimitri’s voice chattering, “—still resting, so we were attempting to give him a moment to adjust.” Dimitri must have been trying to stall someone from coming in, which was obviously failing. His already racing heart kicked itself up another notch, and Byleth quickly pulled her hand out of his grasp and put more distance between them before he could more adequately react.

As his father entered the room she whispered, “Goodbye, Sylvain.” Wait, no… there was so much he still wanted to say. She couldn’t leave now. He was himself again! This was supposed to go differently!

“Ah, you’re still here,” his father remarked, his eyes narrowing the slightest bit as they rested on Byleth. 

Byleth bowed deeply as she replied, “I was just saying goodbye. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” She turned to Dimitri and bowed again with a quiet, “Your Highness,” before turning on her heel and walking toward the door. He frantically called out her name, but she didn’t look back. 

Dimitri looked to him in obvious sympathy, but his father had no such fondness. “Wear these.” He waved his hand to the side as one of his father’s retainers who had also entered the room set a stack of finer clothing down, taking away the ones that Byleth had given him. “We are going directly to Castle Blaiddyd.”

“I need to…” he fumbled with the clothing, pulling the tunic over his bare chest, “I need to say goodbye, first.”

His father’s eyes narrowed further as he firmly insisted, “You’ve said your goodbyes. Her job is finished. I’m sure she’s off to the next one, now.”

“Stop!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but it was enough to startle everyone in the room, including Dimitri who looked like he desperately wished to leave. He fumbled the underclothes on, before standing and pulling the pants on. “I didn’t get to say goodbye. She saved my life several times, I think I owe her at least that.”

His father’s voice was low and full of disapproval as he uttered, “You’ve wasted enough time with that girl.”

He chuckled mirthlessly, pulling the boots on without bothering to so much as tie them. “Wasted enough time? I was turned into a dog by my own brother, and she kept me alive long enough to get here so someone could turn me back to normal. I would hardly call that _wasting time_ with her.” He headed toward the door, only for his father to stop him with a hand planted firmly on his chest.

“She is a mercenary, Sylvain. You are not getting involved with her. Have I made myself clear?”

“Involved?” he hissed, glaring at his father. “I’d say she’s been far more _involved_ than you ever have been.” He pushed his father’s hand away, sent an apologetic nod Dimitri’s way, and ran out the door.

Goddess, it felt good to be back in his own body.

He turned the corner and found Felix, Ingrid, and Glenn standing there with their heads ducked together. They all turned to face him as he frantically said, “I need to get to the stables.”

“Come on, we have to hurry. Her horse is already prepared.” Felix waved with an all too knowing smirk, and he followed as the swordsman quickly led him through the hallways until they reached the exit that led outside. Eventually he couldn’t stop himself, and began full-on running with Felix at his side.

They jogged outside and he immediately spotted the stables. He looked around, desperately searching for a head of blue hair, but couldn’t seem to find Byleth. Felix let out a hissed curse and he looked down to him, following the direction of his pointed finger toward the gated entrance of the Institute in the distance, where Byleth sat astride a Gautier stallion, pulling a small wagon of supplies behind her.

He took off as quickly as he could, calling out her name, but she was too far away. If she heard his calls, she didn’t turn back. He slowly came to a stop as he exited the gate, and Felix stopped beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he buried his face in his hands with a cry of frustration. 

“What happened?” Felix asked, still panting slightly from their run out here.

“I froze up… I… I didn’t even say thank you.” He laughed with an edge of hysteria, pulling at his hair until his eyes began to water. “Goddess, I’m an idiot.”

“What are you going to do?” Byleth had long-since disappeared into the crowded streets of Fhirdiad, but he still stared in that direction like she might come back. He knew she wouldn’t, but he couldn’t help it.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, his eyesight blurring with unshed tears. He wiped them away on the back of his sleeve with a hissed string of expletives. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Here,” Felix pushed something into his hands, and he looked down to see a ripped piece of parchment with the address to an inn in Remire Village in the Empire. “Byleth gave me this.”

He stared at it with wide eyes. “What…?”

Felix quickly explained, “It’s how her troop gets letters. It’s where I’m supposed to meet her… if I decide to join her troop.” He poked him with his elbow and motioned with his head to where his father’s retainer was quickly making his way toward them. “We need to go.”

“Won’t you need this?”

Felix shrugged. “She gave Ingrid and Glenn one, as well. I'll get it from them.” So, she had given contact information to everyone but him? Did she truly dislike him that much? He shouldn’t even—

“You’re overthinking it,” Felix hissed, elbowing him again. It cut off the downward spiral of his thoughts, and he tried to push the ache in his chest away.

He tucked the piece of parchment into his breast pocket and turned to face his father’s retainer, who quickly bowed and said, “The Margrave requests your presence at the carriage.”

He mumbled, “I’m sure he does,” under his breath, and followed the man back to his father, with Felix trailing close behind.

When they reached the carriage, his father’s retainer opened the door for him and waved him inside, where the Margrave was already waiting. His father took one look at him before a smile that looked just shy of smug curved his lips. “Did you accomplish your task?” He raised an eyebrow, something like amusement in his gaze.

He sat opposite his father in the carriage, his adrenaline spiking only the slightest bit at the memory of what had happened the last time he was in a carriage just like this one. He ignored his father’s question entirely, instead asking, “Why are we going to the castle?”

“Your presence is required before Miklan can be sentenced.” He said it so casually, with an air of distaste rather than any sort of grief at the prospect of what fate could await his eldest son. Even Sylvain felt a pang of _something_ in his chest, even if he couldn’t give it a name. “His Highness will be meeting us at the castle, as will the heirs to Fraldarius and Galatea.” He knew his friends had names, not that he would ever use them. 

Felix had climbed into the carriage to sit beside him without any prompting, and he wondered if this was planned beforehand or if his friend was just unwilling to let him out of his sight. Though, if the others were going to be there, Felix probably needed to be as well. They were all affected by Miklan’s plans, in one way or another. The swordsman looked to him, probably concerned of his reaction at his father’s statement, but he forced his face into a mask of neutrality and nodded, before staring firmly out the window as they pulled away.

“I forgot to thank Annette,” he quietly commented, “And Linhardt, and Hanneman… all of them.”

“She saw how excited you were,” Felix chuckled, “I’m sure she’ll relay that to the others.”

He relished the opportunity to use his shit-eating grin again as he turned to face Felix. “Are you going to go back and see her before heading back to Fraldarius?”

Felix’s cheeks dusted pink before he shook his head and looked out the window. “Probably not.”

“Why not? You could take her flowers? Oh! Or sweets! There’s that bakery near the castle? I bet she’d like just about anything from there? I could help you pick something out?” Felix didn’t like sweets. He’d be lost inside a sweet shop.

“I think you have your own issues to consider,” Felix reminded him, lightly bumping their shoulders together. 

“I’d rather consider yours,” he exaggeratedly pouted, earning a scoff from Felix and a disapproving glare from his father. 

He missed Byleth already. 

Goddess his chest ached. He rubbed gingerly at the phantom pain before sighing deeply and resting his head back against the seat. _I’m such a fucking idiot._

The air felt stifling as they descended into the dungeons of Castle Blaiddyd. Felix stood directly beside him, occasionally brushing his arm against his own in a way that made him wonder if it was intentional. Ingrid and Glenn were directly behind him, with his father and Dimitri taking the rear in the narrow stone staircase. 

A knight led them down to the bottom-most level. The level he had been told was reserved for the higher-class criminals—criminals like his brother. A first-born son of high nobility, expected to be charged with the attempted murder of his younger brother, the heir to House Galatea, and the second-son of House Fraldarius. He could faintly hear the shouts and wails of those in the cells on the higher floors as they stepped out onto the landing and inevitably faced the cell that his brother sat it.

There was a chain around one ankle, but for the most part he looked the same, save for being dressed in something close to rags. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting; perhaps a crying and pleading Miklan, one who had lost sleep, or one who looked remotely guilty. He didn’t. If anything, his older brother’s eyes burned with a sort of fury he’d never born witness to before.

A mirthless chuckle echoed around the stone hallway as Miklan bowed his head. “So, they fixed you, did they?”

“They did,” he affirmed, glancing to his father. The Margrave wasn’t looking at him or Miklan, but instead watching the door as if he would rather leave. He couldn’t blame the old man, per say… He wished he wasn’t here either.

“How’s being imprisoned treating ya?” Felix taunted, his voice low and cold. His fists were clenched at his sides, and he had no doubt in his mind that if the bars weren’t there, Felix would be hurling himself at Miklan.

Miklan raised his head, and by the light of the torches on either side of his cell he surveyed the group on the other side of the bars. “Your bitch isn’t here,” he commented, his voice rumbling with barely restrained laughter, “Don’t tell me she _died_.” He pouted out his lip in mock sympathy, his eyes glowing with mirth at the idea. 

Byleth’s face as Miklan choked her flashed in his mind, closely followed by the image of her pale skin as she bled from her torso, her eyes fluttering shut as her breath wheezed faintly. It was enough to make her own fists clench. The guard who’d brought them down knocked the butt of his lance against the ground at Dimitri’s prompting. A warning. He gritted out, “She’s just fine. She journeying back to her father as we speak.”

“After all of that trouble, she _left you_?” Miklan’s laugh was low and cruel, enough to send a chill down his spine. _Left you, left you, left you, left you._ “Figures the mercenary would leave as soon as the job was done. Bet she would have let you—”

“You don’t get to fucking talk about her! Not another word! You hear me?!” He grabbed the bars in both hands, screaming through the gap as his chest rose and fell with his heavy breaths. Miklan just laughed, having gotten the reaction he probably wanted out of him.

“Protective of the Demon,” he sniffed haughtily, “How quaint.”

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” Dimitri cut through their bickering. His voice was full of practiced authority as he stepped to Sylvain’s side. “You are being charged with the attempted murder of your brother, the heir to House Galatea, and the second son of House Fraldarius. The punishment will be severe.”

“I should’ve just killed you myself,” Miklan stated, leaning back against the stone with a malicious grin. He didn’t even care, did he? There was no remorse, no guilt, no feeling at all apart from hatred and bitter rage.

“Goddess knows you haven’t tried enough,” he hissed back. Ingrid came over and placed her hand on his back, pulling him gently away from the bars with her other hand.

Miklan sat forward, his eyes cold as he growled, “If it hadn’t been for you—”

“Shut up!” He bellowed, cutting Miklan’s sentence off. “I’m so sick of this! I’m sick of hearing that you hate me because I was born with a Crest and you weren’t. It wasn’t my fault! You’ve hated me my entire life for something I had no control over!”

Miklan stood, walking as close to the bars as the chain around his ankle would allow. “You took everything from me, just by _existing_! I had to stand by while you fucked your way through half the Kingdom, through half the Officer’s Academy, slacked off in your training and your school work, and _still_ you were praised! _Still_ you were the golden child!” Miklan spit at his feet and roared, “You’ll never be worth anything but the blood that’s in your veins! That blood should have been _MINE_!”

“Miklan Christopher Gautier, you are charged with the attempted murder of the heirs to House Gautier, House Galatea, and the second son of House Fraldarius, as well as the murder of the valiant knights who loyally served these houses. The punishment for which will be execution, to be served on the first of the Red Wolf Moon.”

He didn’t even wait for Dimitri to finish the sentencing, instead turning on his heel and storming back toward the stairs, his chest heaving with erratic breaths as Miklan’s rage-filled curses followed him up the stone staircase. 

He crested the top, stepping out into the fresh air, and quickly turned and walked toward the hedges that lined the exterior walls of Castle Blaiddyd. His breathing was coming in too quickly, and his head was spinning. He bent over at the waist and pressed his hands to his knees, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he tried to breathe through the lump in his throat.

Someone rested a hand on his back, rubbing it softly. He wasn’t sure who it was, but he knew it wasn’t the person that he wanted it to be. “Fuck,” he panted, trying and failing to steady his breathing.

“It’s over,” Felix soothed. “He’s never going to touch you again. You’re going to be okay.”

“Am I?” he mirthlessly chuckled. Tears began streaming down his face as he dropped to his knees and pressed his palms over his eyes. All of the hurt, frustration, and hopeless of the last two weeks seemed to swell at this singular moment, stealing what little breath he had from his lungs and causing ugly sobs to rip from his chest.

“You’re going to be okay,” Felix repeated, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t ignore it, per say, but he couldn’t focus past his own turmoil.

He heard faint footsteps, but he was beyond caring what his father or the others would think. What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of someone dropping to their knees in front of him, nor someone cupping his tear-stained cheeks in their hands. What he definitely wasn’t expecting, was a familiar soft voice saying, “Breathe for me.”

His eyes flew open, widening as they landed on Byleth in front of him. “You… you’re…” he couldn’t finish the sentence, instead surging forward to wrap her up in his arms and bury his face in her neck as she immediately rubbed his back and ran a hand through his hair.

“They’re going to kill him,” he cried, ugly and broken into her neck. “He’s going to be executed.”

“Shhhh…” she hushed in his ear, “I know, I know…” She couldn’t possibly know, but the fact that she was here with him meant more than anything. The fact that she was on her knees, holding him as he sobbed, no judgement, just support… He felt safe. He felt cared for. He felt so many things that he had come to associate with Byleth.

He weakly sniveled, “You’re here…” pulling her closer until her entire body was pressed against his, even as her breastplate poked uncomfortably into his torso.

“I’m here,” she assured him, nodding slightly against his head. “Just let it out. I’ve got you.”

On the cold wet ground outside Castle Blaiddyd, he cried for his brother, cried for himself, and cried for all of the pain that young Sylvain had gone through. Byleth held him through all of it, softly stroking his back, and whispering comforting words.

  
“I never should have left like that.” They were standing near Byleth’s new horse in front of the Castle’s stables, saying goodbye… 

For real this time, it seemed.

“I just… I couldn’t…” she shook her head before starting again. “I went back to the Institute, but Annette told me you were here. I knew it was going to be hard for you, so I got here as quickly as I could, but—” She stopped talking as he pulled her close again, resting his head against hers. 

“Thank you.” They were two words, wholly unable to express the amount of gratitude he felt for everything Byleth had done for him. Byleth nodded against his chest before stepping away, lightly clearing her throat as she did so.

“I wanted to say a real goodbye. After everything that’s happened… it felt so wrong to leave it that way. I'm sorry.”

“I should have said something I just…” He chuckled weakly and ran a hand through his hair. “What do you say to the woman who’s saved your life a million times over?”

“Thank you?” she shrugged, her eyes crinkling with mirth. 

He took both of her hands in his own and emphasized, “Thank you.” Standing here, her hands in his, her head tilted back so she could look up into his eyes with the barest flush on her cheeks from the chill, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and kiss her. However, the sound of his father roughly clearing his throat pulled both of them out of the moment.

“I should go,” she whispered, pulling her hands out of his. “Preferably before your father has me escorted away.”

“I wouldn’t let him,” he insisted. She nodded, humming softly in the back of her throat. He grabbed her hand again and blurted out, “Will I see you again?”

She smiled weakly and took her hand from his, briefly glancing behind him before answering, “If you ever need a mercenary… you know how to find me.” She was avoiding his touch now. He could feel her pulling away and it ached.

“I just… I can’t… You’re my _friend_.” The word tasted terrible leaving his tongue, but it was all he could say without making this even harder.

“Maybe I’ll try to write every once and a while,” she claimed, though the way she looked off to the side and bit her lip the slightest bit told him that she wasn’t planning on it.

A scary thought entered his mind. After all that he’d seen her do, after all that he knew she was accustomed to, what if the day came where she died in the middle of nowhere? He would never even know, trapped as he was in his ivory tower. “Don’t… die… out there.” An amused snort sounded out behind him, and he turned to find Felix, Glenn, and Ingrid walking toward them, watching in obvious amusement. Dimitri at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed, though it was probably on his behalf. 

“I thought they called you a silver tongue?” Glenn slyly commented, earning a snicker from Felix. Byleth quickly made her way over and pulled Felix into a hug, who hugged her back brusquely before stepping away. She clasped arms with Glenn and Ingrid before bowing to his father and Dimitri walking back to her horse.

“You are more than welcome to stay the night? I can have a room prepared for you, and your things will be looked after,” Dimitri offered, checking the light that was already beginning to fade from the skies.

“Thank you for your generosity, Your Highness, but I should see to my father.” Byleth looked down at the pommel of the saddle before glancing down at him. “If you ever have need of me, do let me know.” She called out a farewell, waving from atop her horse before pulling away from the stables and approaching the gate. 

He was still watching her retreating form when his father came to clasp a heavy hand on his shoulder, pulling him away. “That’s enough.” It wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t. However, he nodded, biting back a sigh of resignation, and followed the group into the castle.

His father walked ahead, but Felix fell behind to walk beside him. The swordsman shoved him with his shoulder and commented, “How on earth did you ever woo a woman into bed?” He cut his friend a sharp look, but he just snickered. “No, seriously. Were they all idiots?”

“Let’s just say it’s a lot easier when you aren’t actually in love with them,” he replied. He sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe she came back.”

“I can,” Felix shrugged, still looking straight ahead when he whipped his head toward his friend. The swordsman didn’t say anything more on the matter, and he didn’t press because he wasn’t sure he had the heart to hear Felix’s opinion. 

He hesitantly asked, “Are you actually going to go and join her?”

Felix shrugged again, fiddling with the sword strapped to his side. “I’ve decided to broach the subject with father. It would be temporary… but… I think it would be a good opportunity. I still have a lot I could learn from her. And I think it would help me decide what I want to do with my life.”

“I’d miss you,” he whined, dropping an arm around Felix’s shoulder with a teasing grin. 

Felix shoved him off with a smirk and countered, “I’d be back before the wedding. It’s not like I could miss that if I wanted to.”

Sylvain sighed wearily as all of the playfulness ebbed. “You’ll need to attend my own soon enough.” Felix’s eyes darted to his before dropping to the ground.

It was back to life as usual, though it felt like his heart had ridden south to Remire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear there's more! Don't hate me!


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing his father did upon their arrival back in Gautier was shove a stack of letters into his arms and demand that he pick a wife from the pile. He tried to plead for at least a month of respite—Goddess knows he needed it after all that he had been through with this whole ordeal—but his father would hear none of it. However, his father, being the gracious man he was, did set things up so his first suitor didn’t arrive at Gautier Manor until a week and a half after his return. 

He strongly suspected the winter storm that blew through Gautier around the same time had something to do with that, though.

He met with each woman and tried his best to be charming like he used to be. It was funny how much he had changed over the two weeks he spent as a dog with Byleth. The instinct to hide behind his old façade was still there, but he found that it took so much more effort to maintain. By the time he was done with each date, he was ready to crawl into bed with a now-worn piece of parchment that bore the address of an inn in Remire, and dream about deep pools of blue. 

He’d foolishly wondered whether his feelings for Byleth would fade with his return to normalcy. Perhaps—he had thought—it was affection stemmed from the circumstance. Perhaps when he was no longer in danger, and had all of the luxuries of his normal life back, he would be able to forget about his infatuation with her. They led completely different lives, and were completely different people. Perhaps he could go back to the way things used to be without the need for further heartache. He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. All of these women throwing themselves at him—only after him for his Crest, his wealth, his name—only served to make him miss her more. They were beautiful, educated—some of them were even kind and funny—but he could never clear his mind of Byleth’s kindness, Byleth’s smile, Byleth’s warmth. He couldn’t forget the safety he felt when she was nearby, and the care that she so freely gave.

He put a quill to parchment about one hundred times, set on the idea of writing her a letter. Not so much a letter to confess his feelings, or to beg her to come to Gautier as he so wished to—but to inquire after her and tell her how thankful he was for everything she had done for him. However, no matter what he wrote, nothing felt right. 

Just over two months after his return, he received a letter from Felix—writing from the road where he was currently traveling with Byleth, her father, and their mercenary crew. His best friend had left Fraldarius days after Byleth’s departure with his father’s blessing to go and travel with the Blade Breaker’s crew. Felix told tales of each job and the people he had met, talked about how invigorating it was to travel with the mercenary crew, and asked about how he was handling everything with his family. He also wrote to say he would, in fact, be coming back for the wedding. Not only that, Ingrid and Glenn had invited Byleth to come as well, so they would be traveling to Fhirdiad together. 

His heart rate sped as he read those words, the palpitations becoming even more harmful to his health when he turned to the next page of the letter and saw unfamiliar handwriting.

_**Sylvain,** _

_**I’ve never written a letter before, so I apologize if I’m terrible at it. Felix told me he was writing you one, and said I had to include a page as well. I had mentioned writing you every once and a while before I said goodbye, so I suppose I should follow up on that.** _

There was a splotch on the parchment, like she’d tapped the quill on the parchment multiple times before she continued writing. _**Felix said to write whatever I’m thinking, but I argued that you wouldn’t be interested in hearing about my thoughts. They are all based on the mundane things that only matter as a mercenary. All I think about nowadays is how long it will take us to travel to each job, what repairs we will need, and what supplies will be necessary before our next payday. Felix implied that you would be more than happy to hear about any of it because you are, and I quote, “needy enough that he won’t even care”, but I won our next duel and now he has to stop pestering me about it.**_

_**I’ve been working on my naming skills. I’ve named the stallion your father gifted me, Storm. I feel it fits him, and he seems to like it well enough. I find myself talking to him often, though I’m always a little disappointed when he never speaks back. I know I shouldn’t expect him to, but I have experience with animals talking back. Don’t I?** _

_**I didn’t realize just how much I was going to miss having you around.** _

_**All of that aside, I’ve been invited to Ingrid and Glenn’s wedding. Felix says that Annette would enjoy the task of finding me a suitable dress to wear, but I’ve never worn a dress before. I offered to go and pose as a guard for Felix, so I could wear my normal breastplate, but he told me that idea was stupid. I beat him on our next spar and made him take it back before I let him up. Honestly, it’s weird that he still enjoys traveling with me.** _

_**I know you’ll probably be busy with noble stuff at the wedding, but I hope to see you there. I often wonder how you are. Perhaps I’ll get to see for myself soon.** _

_**I really do miss you.** _

_**Byleth** _

The wedding was only three weeks away! The prospect of seeing Byleth that soon was enough to make sitting still feel impossible. He stood from his desk and began pacing his room, feasting on her hastily scrawled words, over and over. “I really do miss you,” might have been the most exciting thing he had ever read.

A knock sounded at the door, pulling him away from his excitement, and he called for whomever it was to enter. It was one of his father’s retainers that opened the door, a younger fellow that he found he didn’t mind his presence as much as some of his father’s other lackeys. He bowed slightly and announced, “Your next guest has arrived. She and her father are waiting for you in the lounge.”

He bit back a sigh, and folded up Byleth’s letter slowly, carefully placing it in his jacket pocket before glancing at himself in the full-length mirror in the corner of his room. He was dressed a bit more casually than his father would probably prefer, but he wasn’t really in the mood for this meeting, anyway. Certainly not with thoughts of seeing Byleth at the wedding taking up the entire capacity of his mind. He tousled his hair a bit more, before deciding he was satisfied with his appearance.

“I’m coming.”

When the retainer pushed open the door, he wasn’t expecting much. He had his normal fake smile plastered on, up until the moment his eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Mercedes?!” He quickly rounded the lounger to make his way to the tea table where she sat, smiling gently from her seat. “It has been far too long! You look divine, as always.” It was true, she really did. Her hair had grown even longer and was loosely pulled to the side like she wore it at the Academy, and she wore a nicely fitted violet dress that brought out the color of her eyes. He took her offered hand, pulled her from her seat, and dipped down to press a kiss to the back of it.

Someone cleared their throat behind him, and he quickly remembered himself. He turned to face the man whom he assumed was Mercedes adoptive father—a stout elderly gentleman with a far too pleased smile on his face. Anger burned in his chest, but he kept it at bay as he greeted him. “Excuse my lack of tact, sir. I’ve forgotten myself upon seeing such a dear friend.” He bowed politely and introduced himself, aware of the evaluating look in the man’s eye.

The elderly gentleman raised an amused eyebrow as he continued to look between them like he’d struck gold. “If I had known the fondness you had for my adoptive daughter, I would have arranged a meeting much sooner. Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone for a while, while I get some things sorted out with your father?”

“I’m sure we can manage,” he turned his head to look at Mercedes, “If that is alright with you, of course, Mercedes.”

“That sounds delightful,” she cheerfully responded, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’ve brought some of those shortbread cookies you seemed fond of at the Academy. Perhaps I could prepare some tea for us?”

He winked at her before turning to his father’s retainer. “Please make sure our guest has everything he requires while Mercedes and I take tea.”

“Of course, Sir.” The other men walked out, and both he and Mercedes let out a sigh of relief as their shoulders drooped and he dropped into the chair beside her.

“You are a sight for sore eyes,” he cooed, giving his best grin. He tilted his cheek to his fist as he gave her another glance-over. “You really do look lovely. How have things been since graduation?”

“Far better than things have been for you, I hear.” She frowned sympathetically and lightly patted his hand.

He winced. “Annette?”

She giggled sweetly before standing and heating the water in the teapot with a weak fire spell. “Yes, Annie told me. I cannot imagine how terrible that whole ordeal must have been.”

He sighed again as he ran a hand down his face. He supposed he should be glad that Mercedes had heard about it from Annette, rather than through the extensive gossip tree that seemed to span most of Fodlan. Nothing seemed to have gotten out about his ordeal, his father had managed to sweep the Miklan incident under the rug just as he always had. He was grateful for that fact, though it felt odd that the whole thing seemed to just fade into recent history when he felt so _different_ now. “It certainly wasn’t pleasant… Though it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, all things considered.”

Mercedes grinned coyly as she set tea leaves in the water to steep. “Annie told me about the lovely woman that saved you. When I received the letter, I couldn’t help thinking it read like one of Ashe’s novels, with a knight with a heart of gold and a cursed maiden.” She giggled in her fist and he allowed himself a tired chuckle.

“Yeah… that’s Byleth for you.” He ran a hand through his hair before somewhat begrudgingly adding, “A pretty apt description of the events, actually.” He wasn’t fond of the idea of being a cursed maiden, but if Byleth was the knight in shining armor, he wouldn’t complain.

“Byleth,” she smiled and reached over to take his hand again. “Annie told me a little about everything, but I wouldn’t mind hearing more.”

So, he went through the entire tale as Mercedes actively listened, poured him tea, and brought out some of the sweets she’d prepared before traveling to Gautier. She giggled when he told her how he and Byleth met, smiled when he grumbled about how she had immediately hit it off with all of his friends in Fraldarius, frowned as he told her about Miklan’s attack and Byleth’s sacrifice, and overall seemed to enjoy the story immensely. Honestly, it felt like being back at the Academy. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in quite some time.

When he had finally finished his tale, he took a long sip of his tea to sooth his throat and to try and hide the flush in his cheeks after talking about how awfully he had fumbled things when he said goodbye to Byleth. Mercedes grinned conspiratorially and cooed, “Byleth sounds very special.”

He chuckled nervously and rubbed the back of his neck. “She certainly is. Felix is traveling with her right now, having the time of his swordfighting life.”

“Oh, Annie told me,” she grinned. “He wrote her a letter and she was beyond thrilled.”

“They are so in love with each other,” he groaned exaggeratedly, pulling another melodic giggle from her. “We have to do something to get them together at the wedding. Maybe I can get him to confess his affections with the right amount of coaxing. Or teasing, teasing might work. They are just adorable together, but they are both so shy in their own ways. I’m not sure if they’d be able to make it happen on their own.”

“Perhaps.” She hummed thoughtfully and propped her cheek in her hand. “I also think we should talk about why you are having these meetings with young ladies when it’s so very obvious where your affections lie.”

He chuckled mirthlessly and slouched in his seat. He pouted, “Why do you always have to see through me like that? Couldn’t you just let me off easy? Just once?”

She shook her head before taking a sip of her tea, probably to try and hide the smirk on her lips. “I’ve never seen you talk about a woman the way you talk about Byleth, nor have I seen you light up like you did when you were telling me about her. Even with all you’ve been through, you smile when you say her name.” She took another sip of tea and tilted her head quizzically. “So, why are you seeing all of these women?”

He managed to slouch even further as he released a heavy sigh. “You, of all people, know how it is. My father would never let me pursue her—not to mention I’m not even certain she would accept if I did ask for her hand.”

Mercedes hummed thoughtfully as she glanced out the window. “It doesn’t take much to know that she cares for you. Any other mercenary would have dropped you off in Fraldarius, taken the gold, and washed their hands of the whole ordeal. Not to mention the injuries she sustained in an effort to protect you.” He winced at the mention of it—the memories of Byleth’s body wrapped in bandages were still fresh, as well as the nightmares he still had almost nightly about Miklan’s attack—and she reached forward to take his hand again, this time holding it between them as she stroked the back of it with her thumbs. “The part that I admire most is that she followed you to Castle Blaiddyd when she heard where you had gone. From what Annie told me, it sounded as though she might have been worried she wasn’t welcome anymore—what with you being back to your old self. Perhaps that’s why she left the Institute so quickly after you were changed back? But she came back anyway, because that’s how much she cares about you.”

He took a sip of his tea, considering what Mercedes said. He honestly hadn’t thought of it that way. It made sense, with the differences in their backgrounds and with the way they had met. He had definitely said things in the beginning that would have given her that impression, but things had changed between them by the end, hadn’t they? How could she think he wouldn’t want her around? How could she think he was anything but absolutely smitten by her?

He slowly pulled Byleth’s letter from his jacket pocket and handed it to Mercedes. “I just received this today. She says she’s coming to the wedding.”

“She is? Oh, that's so exciting! It would be wonderful to meet her.” Mercedes eyes lit up with her excitement before she glanced down to read through the letter. She giggled into her free hand and commented, “I see why Felix was so eager to travel with her. They sound like they are quite alike.”

He chuckled dryly as he nodded. “Far too alike, in some ways. If I’m being honest, I was kind of jealous after they met. I think they get along so well because they are interested in the same things, but I don’t think it’s romantic…” He paused for a moment and considered his words. “At least I hope it’s not. They have been together for far longer than I was with her, so there is a possibility it could be now.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, “Not that I can complain if it is romantic. It’s not like I can offer her anything.”

“I doubt it’s romantic,” Mercedes consoled, still reading over the letter. “Are you certain your father wouldn’t allow you to court Byleth? You are the heir to one of the most powerful houses in the Kingdom, so you must have some sort of say?”

“I…” he paused, looking down at his hands which were folded on the table, “I don’t think so. It was all I could do to get him to set up these meetings in the first place. He wanted me to pick a wife from a stack of parchment, like it was picking out my next meal, not the person I’d have to spend the rest of my life with. She’s a common-borne mercenary… I don’t care about that, but he certainly does.”

Mercedes hummed thoughtfully and handed Byleth’s letter back to him. “I understand. Sometimes it feels as though my adoptive father is set on trying to sell me to the highest bidder, no matter how I feel about it. I was overjoyed at the prospect of coming to Gautier because I knew that you would at least be good company.” Her eyes crinkled with mirth as she tilted her head to the side with a gentle giggle. 

He put his hand over hers on the table and insisted, “I would be fortunate to end up with a woman as amazing as you, Mercedes. I mean that.”

“Oh, come now…” she softly chided. “I still think you should speak to your father. You are the heir. He can’t decide everything for you, can he?” He _was_ the only chance at succession. With Miklan dead, he was the only one who could pass down the Gautier bloodline, unless his father took a mistress and attempted to have another child of his own.

_Could he… Was there a possibility…?_

“But….” He paused, bowing his head as he looked down at his lap. “Would that really be fair to her? I mean… even if she somehow has feelings for me, being tied to me means leaving behind everything she’s ever known to join the nobility. The main reason she turned me down in that tavern was because of her distaste for people like me. I know it’s what all of the other women I’ve met over the last few weeks are after, but that doesn’t sound like the life she would want.”

Mercedes pursed her lips thoughtfully before responding, “But she’s met several members of the nobility that she’s fond of—like the Fraldarius family, and Ingrid. And she would have you.” Mercedes smiled reassuringly as she added, “Don’t discount that.” He shook his head, but she continued, “All you can do is tell her how you feel. There are pros and cons to any relationship, but I can tell you care for one another. If she doesn’t feel she can leave her life behind, that is her choice, but I think she would like to know how you feel about her. Everyone wants to be loved for who they are, right?”

He was embarrassed when his eyes immediately began to mist over. He quickly turned away as he brought his hand up to wipe at them. “Mercedes… it was…” He chuckled wetly and bowed his head to his hands. “When I was with her, it was unlike any other person I’ve ever known. I was a _dog._ A literal dog, that used to be a random guy that hit on her in a tavern, but from the first moment I needed her… she was there. She sacrificed so much for me, but she also _saw_ me. You know?” He shook his head with a groan of frustration. “That sounds stupid.”

“No, that doesn’t sound stupid,” Mercedes gently assured him, rubbing his arm in an attempt to comfort him. “I always knew you were hiding something in the Academy. Only now do I realize that you were pretending you were something you weren’t due to all of the pain you had been through. I’m glad you found someone who sees you.”

He quietly asked, “Could I really ask her to change her entire life for me?” Then, even quieter, “What if… What if she says no?” Missing her felt awful, but there was a certain complacency in not knowing how Byleth felt. He could spend the next few months pushing thoughts of her from his head, find himself a “proper” wife, and try to move on from this whole ordeal. But, confessing to her about how much he loved her? That would change everything.

“Then you continue all of these ridiculous interviews until you find someone you want to spend your life with,” Mercedes giggled. She sobered with a heavy sigh. “It is in your hands, Sylvain. The way I see it, Byleth has fought for you, now you need to decide if you want to fight for her.”

  
Immediately after seeing off Mercedes and her adoptive father, he made his way to his father’s study. His heart was racing in his chest, but Mercedes words rang in his head, pushing him onward. She was right—Byleth had fought for him, and now he wanted to fight for her. If he was fortunate enough that she returned his affections, he wanted nothing more than to have her in his life. He knocked, and waited for his father to call for him to enter.

The study was oppressive as he entered, and he immediately became more anxious as he walked forward to situate himself in front of his father’s desk. The decorations were dark and ominous in here, just as they were through the rest of the Manor. Perhaps that was part of the reason this place never felt like a home. He had countless memories that took place in this room, though none of them were pleasant. He pushed the anxiety aside in an attempt to convey how serious he was. 

“Just one moment,” his father murmured, looking over a parchment with a furrowed brow. He signed his name and used his signet ring to seal the parchment before hazel eyes finally lifted to rest on him. His father then waved a hand in a motion for him to speak.

“I have chosen the woman I would like to spend my life with,” he firmly began, only for his father to immediately speak over him.

“I should have known that you would pick the Mercedes girl,” he chimed, looking pleased with himself. “She is a fine choice, even if her adoptive father is a contemptible man. Not to mention having an additional Crest in the Gautier line will—”

“I’m not asking Mercedes to marry me,” he cut in.

His father’s eyebrows drew in at the center as he tilted his head in confusion. “You are not? Then, which suitor are you speaking of?”

“Byleth.” He felt himself smile, but attempted to hide it behind a neutral expression. “I will be asking Byleth to officially court me when I attend Ingrid and Glenn’s wedding.”

“Byleth…” his father looked toward a stack of parchments on the corner of his desk and flipped through them for a moment, before going very still halfway through the motion. Hazel eyes narrowed as his father looked back up at him. “You had best not be referring to that mercenary woman.” The contempt in his voice was enough to set him on edge, but he held firm.

“I am,” he firmly stated with a nod of his head.

“Unacceptable.” His father scoffed the word with a shake of his head. “You cannot tell me you are honestly still hung up on a commoner woman that you barely know. A mercenary woman that only spent time with you because you were a dog who _hired_ her to be there.”

“I love her.”

His father laughed sardonically as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You _love_ her.” Another laugh seemed to burst out of him as he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin. “Fine, then. We'll have her knighted and bring her to Gautier… Hell, you can take her as your whore.”

He had suspected this was how the conversation would go, but he hadn’t been adequately prepared for the anger that swelled at his father’s words. He clenched his fists at his sides as he gritted out, “No.”

His father waved a hand casually through the air as he explained himself, “Half of the nobility have consorts and lovers, you would be no different. I have no qualms with you straying from your marriage bed as long as you spend time in it. Perhaps she’ll even be fortunate and bare a Crest-bearing child for you, but she will _never_ be Margravine Gautier.”

“You should mind how you speak of her,” he warned in a voice far calmer than he felt, “I plan to make her my wife, if she’ll have me.”

His father raised one eyebrow. “I am speaking honestly, son. She is a common-borne mercenary, as such, she does not have the skills, nor the grace required to ascend into nobility. That is not even considering the fact that the ranks of the nobility would eat the poor girl alive.”

“They wouldn’t,” he denied, even as dread seeped into his chest.

“They most definitely would,” his father chuckled, sounding amused at the prospect. “With the reputation you bear? She would be the laughingstock of our peers. She would be ridiculed as an outsider. She would never be accepted. After the upbringing she’s had, she would be absolutely miserable in high society. If you truly care for her, save her and yourself the heartache and pick a woman who is suited for such a task as being Margravine Gautier.”

He argued, “She is suited, even if it isn’t in the conventional ways. She’s brilliant, headstrong, and capable. She has more battle experience than most of our knights, which will be helpful when it comes to defending the border. She is gracious and kind, and understands the common folk far more than we do, so her experience in that area will be invaluable. It would be difficult, but she would do far better than others have.” His father opened his mouth with a retort, but he cut him off with a raised hand. “I think you have misunderstood what I am saying. I am not asking for your permission to ask for her hand, I am informing you of the decision I have already made.”

The fury that entered his father’s eyes made his palms sweat. “I will not accept this.”

The words spilled from his lips without a second thought. “Then you can find a new heir.”

The tension that had been building between them seemed to halt, like it was holding its breath to see what would happen next. His father stood from his seat and placed his hands on the desk in front of him as he growled, “What did you just say?”

He continued, the words flowing from his mouth now. “You can find yourself a new heir. Someone else can be Margrave Gautier. If you will not even allow me the freedom to ask for her hand, I see no reason to stay here. Being part of House Gautier has given me nothing but hardship, so I will find a life elsewhere.”

His father’s next laugh held an edge of hysteria as he stood up straighter and ran a hand down his face. “I have handed you every single thing you have. You have never wanted for anything in your life.”

“You looked on as Miklan tortured me my entire life,” he angrily countered. The fact that his father’s features instantly became guarded somehow made him even angrier. “You allowed him to plot against me under your own roof. You even allowed him to sway knights of House Gautier to aid him in his murderous vendetta, nearly resulting in the deaths of myself and my friends. Byleth is the only reason I am alive, and I love her deeply. She makes me want to be a better man, and I wish to do my duty to House Gautier with her at my side. If you will not allow that, I will be leaving House Gautier, and I will not return.”

What remained of his father’s composure finally snapped, and his features twisted with fury as he roared, “You barely know this woman!” 

He stepped closer as he shouted back, “I know her far better than any of the women you’ve been shoving down my throat the last two months! Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t care about my name, my status, my Crest. She cares about me, as a person. All of those other women only desire what they can get from loving me.”

“This is absurd! That Mercedes girl would be far more suitable for your spouse!”

He shook his head firmly. “Mercedes is lovely, and one of the kindest people I know, but I do not love her.”

“Love,” his father scoffed. He even went so far as to roll his eyes. “Your life isn’t a romance novel, foolish _boy_. Just because the mercenary woman stepped in to save the day, doesn’t qualify her for a life at your side. There are far more important things to consider than who you love. You are the future of the great House Gautier, and the decisions you make impact the futures of every person who resides in our territory. I will not allow you to taint the Gautier bloodline by taking a common-borne mercenary as a bride!”

“If Byleth will not accept my proposal, I will extend a proposal to Mercedes.” His father’s eyes snapped to meet his. “If she will not have me, I will allow you to arrange a proposal for Mercedes’ hand. But that is only if Byleth does not wish to marry me.”

His father sat back in his chair, and the calmness that instantly came over the older man, somehow left him feeling even more anxious. After several moments of tension filled silence he asked in a low voice, “And you will be asking her at the wedding in three weeks?”

He considered it and responded, “Well… afterwards, yes.” He hadn’t made a plan yet, though he knew he didn’t want to do anything that would take away from Ingrid and Glenn’s big day.

The Margrave raised what could only be considered a skeptical eyebrow. “The common-borne mercenary woman is attending one of the biggest events of the year for the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and you will be asking for her hand afterward?” It sounded like a terrible idea when he said it in that tone—like he was amused at the very idea.

He nodded. “Yes.”

Another sardonic laugh echoed through the room. “The woman that you could barely speak to when we were at Castle Blaiddyd? This is the woman you wish to marry? The woman you wish to make Margravine Gautier?”

“I’ve made my decision.” He turned on his heel and walked out the door, not wishing to hear anything more.

He had more important things than his father’s cruel mocking to consider… like a life with Byleth at his side.

He had a proposal to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mercedes, doing the goddess' work! Yes, girl! I freaking love her! Also, now I have to find a way to get the rest of the Lions in the fic, because we really only have Ashe left. As much as I LOVE Dedue, I don't see how he would have attended the Officer's Academy without the Tragedy happening. If you have thoughts or ideas, let me know.
> 
> Sylvain has finally mustered some courage. What a good boy! Let's see if he can find a way to keep it as we approach the wedding next chapter :) I hope to have it out next Sunday, but things will get a little hectic with Christmas approaching and work stuff so I'm apologizing in advance, just in case it's late.
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated! How do you think Sylvain's confession is going to go? :)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain attends a wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how late this is! It is super duper long, and things have been a bit crazy lately with my other fics and trying to keep up with work and Christmas stuff. I hope ya'll like this chapter!

Ingrid and Glenn’s wedding was set to be held in Fhirdiad, with the ceremony taking place in the cathedral near Castle Blaiddyd, and the reception to be held shortly after in the grand ballroom at the castle itself. Due to Lord Rodrigue’s status within the Kingdom and the fact that the heirs of two of the great houses in the Kingdom were due to be wed, King Lambert had insisted. It was expected to be the biggest event of the year—only to be surpassed by Dimitri’s own wedding when such a day inevitably came to pass. As such, Fraldarius territory’s small church would be insufficient.

His father had barred him from traveling down to Fhirdiad early, likely out of spite, but he wouldn’t let it get him down. He could only hope that the Margrave wouldn’t be vindictive when it came to Byleth herself, but he knew for certain that he would shield her from it as much as he possibly could if she agreed to his proposal. His eyes keep traveling to the small bag he had beside him, just as his thoughts endlessly circled around what he planned to say. He sincerely hoped he wasn’t going to fuck this up…

Oh, who was he kidding? He was definitely going to fuck this up.

The city of Fhirdiad was decorated for the joyous occasion, and as they approached the cathedral with the parade of other noble families’ carriages, he waved out the window to the crowds of commoners that had lined themselves along the route with flowers. It was the Great Tree Moon, the beginning of the new year and spring itself. The start of new beginnings, and the time that believers were encouraged to pray to the goddess that they would reach their potential. He had never taken that sentiment seriously before, but now it brought a smile to his face as he glanced up at the cathedral and prayed that he would—hopefully with Byleth there beside him.

“I assume you are still set on your _ridiculous_ plan,” his father mused aloud, not even glancing to him as he addressed him. They hadn’t spoken much since he’d announced that he was going to ask Byleth to formally court him, not that he had been making any sort of effort to be around his father. He had ridden on horseback most of the way down to Fhirdiad to avoid conversing with either of his parents, but unfortunately, he was stuck in the carriage for this part. It would be far too “improper” to arrive to the wedding on horseback.

He still smiled and waved out the window as he answered, “Yes, I am.”

“Won’t you consider it, son?” His mother was sulking across from him, just as unhappy as his father was, though not in the way that she would cause conflict. That wasn’t his mother’s style. She normally specialized in emotional manipulation, but he had been mentally preparing for that since the moment he’d made this decision. 

He sighed, “I have considered it, Mother. Extensively.”

She bemoaned, “Think of the talk, darling. What will people say? The heir to one of the most powerful houses in the Kingdom, marrying a common-borne mercenary.”

“A renowned mercenary, known throughout Fodlan for her fighting prowess. And only if she agrees to marry me in the first place.” The look of genuine bafflement on his mother’s face at the idea that Byleth wouldn’t agree was almost enough to make him snort in amusement… If he wasn’t so worried about that very thing happening as soon as he proposed, that is.

She slowly said, “She is a commoner,” confusion thick in her tone.

“She is extraordinary, and you will both be kind to her.” His father scoffed while his mother put a hand to her chest like he had insulted her. “I’m serious. I love her, and I want her to be happy with me. Both of you will be civil.”

“Or?” his father challenged in a haughty tone.

“Or I wish you the best of luck in producing a new heir,” was his cool response. His mother made a noise of affront as his father glared daggers at him.

His mother’s lip quivered as she asked, “You would leave your mother? Leave your house? Cast us aside? Do you truly care so little for our future? Are you truly that selfish?”

Selfish?! Care for their future?! Where was their care for his future when Miklan was beating the shit out of him? When his older brother tried to kill him, multiple times? Where was their care for his future when Miklan was plotting against him? She didn’t even come to check on him when there was a real possibility that he would never be fixed—when there was a real possibility that he would be a dog for the rest of his life. He very nearly didn’t have a future. Byleth was the only reason he had one, and he would gladly give it to her if she would only take it.

He pushed the anger down, knowing that it wouldn’t help him in the long run. Instead of shouting at them as he wished to, he droned, “Would you truly like to discuss this _now_?” He waved out to where a squire was approaching the carriage to open the door. His mother sniffed and turned her head away as his father moodily straightened his sash and cape. They only cared about how this would affect them, and he knew it. He was past caring at this point, though.

He stepped out of the carriage first and dipped his head as he made his way up the marble steps to the cathedral, where the sound of the organ playing hymns greeted him. The area was crowded as nobility from all over Fodlan made their way into the building, so he followed the crowd until it thinned and he finally spotted welcome faces.

“Sylvain!” Annette called, waving her bouquet over her head as she grinned enthusiastically. Petals were flying off of the poor abused flowers to scatter across the floor, and Mercedes smiled affectionately as she touched Annette’s arm and encouraged her to bring them back down to her side.

He made his way down the aisle as quickly as he could, nodding in greeting to those that called out to him while simultaneously searching for a head of blue hair, until he finally approached his friends. “Well, don’t you two look absolutely lovely?!” Mercedes and Annette wore matching teal dresses—the color of House Fraldarius—and had matching bouquets of flowers. Annette’s ginger hair was pinned up elegantly, making her appear older, while Mercedes’ flaxen hair was curled down her back.

“Oh, you!” Annette blushed and brought a hand up to lightly smack his shoulder. “You look nice, too.” He had been asked to stand with Glenn—alongside Felix and Dimitri. They were all going to be wearing the same dark grey suit with a cape that matched the women’s dresses.

He cooed, “Only because of you, you beautiful genius. If it weren’t for you and your genius friends, I’d be much hairier and four-legged.” He dipped to kiss the back of her hand before asking, “Did I sufficiently thank you for that? I’m not sure I did.”

“You’re about to have a whole lot more to thank me for,” Annette giggled, her grin looking about as devilish as someone as wholesome as Annette could look.

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow in interest as he stood up straight again. “What do you mean?”

“Look!” She lifted her hand to wave as she called out, “Felix! Byleth!” 

Mercedes quietly giggled, “Annie, you shouldn’t shout in the cathedral,” though he barely heard her as he turned toward the door and spotted Felix with Byleth beside him, holding his arm. His breath caught in his throat as he took in her hair—longer than he had last seen it—curled and flowing down her back, and a fitted maroon dress with sleeves that draped off of her shoulders and showed off the muscle she had gained from years of fighting. A delicate gold choker circled her neck, and she even seemed to have makeup on, though it was very little. She looked… absolutely stunning. 

This was going to be so much harder than he thought.

“Ahhhh… look at his face, Mercie!” Annette giggled and he blinked a few times before he managed to pull his eyes away from Byleth to look at the mischievous ginger. He managed to croak out a pathetic, “Thank you.” Which only served to make both girls giggle even more. 

Mercedes looped her arm through Annette’s with a kind smile. “She looks absolutely lovely, Annie! Did you pick out the dress?”

Annette nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! It was so much fun to doll her up, Mercie. I’m sad you missed it. She looked all surprised when I was done, like she didn’t even recognize herself.”

He turned back to watch as Felix and Byleth made their way toward one of the benches and Byleth sat down. He wanted nothing more than to go and greet her, but he knew that he shouldn’t. Judging by how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were, it was probably a good thing he had some time to pull himself together. Byleth’s eyes scanned the crowd for a few moments before eventually landing on him, and he took in a sharp breath as she smiled brightly and gave a small wave. 

Annette nudged him and quietly hissed, “Wave, silly!”

As he slowly did so, he heard Mercedes comment, “Oh dear… I thought you were exaggerating, Annie.”

“Nope!” Annette groaned, “He gets all dazed like he can’t even talk. How do you go from calling us lovely and being all charming one moment, to gaping like a fish the next? Huh?”

“Hey!” he playfully pouted, turning to look back at them, “I am not gaping like a fish.”

“You are,” Felix snickered from behind him. He turned to pull his best friend into a hug, feeling relieved that he was alive and well. It wasn’t fun being worried about Felix _and_ Byleth for the last few months.

“Fe! I’m so glad you’re safe. I’ve been worried about you.”

“Oh, come off it,” Felix groused, though the slight smirk told him that the swordsman was glad he cared. “I’m not sure why everyone feels as if I can’t take care of myself. I was just fine.”

He straightened Felix’s cloak as he cooed, “Oh, you love that we were all worried about you and you know it.” Felix batted away his hands and moved to fix it by himself, which only served to make it even worse. Eventually, Annette stepped in to help and Felix blushed as he quietly thanked her.

So, he gapes like a fish and Felix blushes like a maiden. Great.

Someone cleared their throat behind them and they all turned to find the priest looking at them with obvious disapproval. “If you would take your places, the ceremony is about to start.” He and Felix made their way over and he stood behind the shorter swordsman as the music started. 

Everyone in the cathedral stood to watch as Dimitri and his father walked down the aisle with knights in full dress armor. Dimitri made his way up to stand behind him as King Lambert took a seat in his designated row in the front, a wide grin spread across his regal features. Next down the aisle was Glenn and Lord Rodrigue. Lord Rodrigue split off to sit beside King Lambert, as Glenn came to stand at the front of the aisle, awaiting his bride.

Finally, the music swelled and Ingrid walked in with her mother on her left and her father on her right. She looked incredibly gorgeous in her long white gown with a teal sash about her waist. Best of all, she looked absolutely overjoyed, even with how done up she was. Her smile was nearly blinding as they slowly made their way down the aisle toward Glenn, and Sylvain couldn’t help glancing out into the crowd to look at Byleth. Their eyes met, and he was momentarily lost in a deep pools of blue, until he heard the priest start the ceremony and he focused back on the proceedings. 

After the many tedious rituals that were usually performed in Faerghus weddings, the marriage was sealed with a kiss, and just like that, two of his best friends were married. Ingrid and Glenn walked back down the aisle to applause and rambunctious cheers from those that were standing with the bride and groom, much to the displeasure of the priest.

Felix was watching the couple walk out the doors as he commented, “I’m aware that we’ve known this was going to happen for most of our lives, but it still feels strange.”

“I agree,” Dimitri chuckled as he nodded his head. “Marriage used to seem like something that was far in the distant future, but now Glenn and Ingrid have done it.”

“Are you going to be walking down the aisle soon, Your Princeliness?” He draped his arm over Dimitri’s shoulders and the blonde shook his head fervently.

The blonde wearily replied, “Not that I know of, though my father’s advisors would like nothing more.”

“I feel ya,” he sighed. He had to fight the urge to run a hand down his face, knowing that he was supposed to look prim and proper right now.

“Ah, yes! My father did bring up that you have been meeting with potential suitors. How has that been?” There was a look of sympathy in the prince’s blue eyes, though he wasn’t as lucky with Felix.

“Suitors?” the swordsman griped, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Are you kidding me? Why didn’t I know about this? Are you engaged?!”

Ne nervously chuckled, “Well you’ve kind of been trapesing around Fodlan, living your best swordsman life… and not exactly.”

Felix raised an eyebrow as he sternly asked, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means…” he glanced around before quietly admitting, “… that I’m going to ask Byleth to formally court me. So… I guess I hope to be soon?”

“What?!” Both men cried out, Dimitri looking absolutely gobsmacked as Felix somehow managed to look both smug and overjoyed at the same time.

Felix quickly added, “I thought you weren’t going to say anything?”

“Honestly, I’m hoping I can manage the words at this point.” He rubbed his hands nervously down his sides as they began walking toward the doors, gestured forward by some of the knights that had walked in with Dimitri. “I spoke to my father and told him what I was planning to do. He objected, of course, but in the end, I didn’t give him much of a choice. If she says yes, we’ll eventually marry. If she says no…” He shook his head as he trailed off. “Well, let’s just say I’m hoping she says yes.”

“What’s your plan? When are you doing it?” Felix immediately went into battle planning mode, and he had to fight off a chuckle. 

“I’m hoping I can get her alone after the reception.”

“Get who alone?” Annette chirped as she walked up beside them with Mercedes on her arm.

“Byleth,” he whispered, “But let’s not—"

“OH!” Mercedes clapped excitedly, “Did you speak with your father? Are you going to ask her?”

“Speak with his father?!” Annette shrieked, dancing over to loop her arm through his. “Sylvain?!”

“Guys, honestly…” he chuckled nervously, glancing toward where Byleth was probably waiting for Felix. How did everyone know how he felt about her but her? How could this possibly happen?

“Enough of this,” Felix cut in, though he was still smiling, “We have to actually get to the reception, first.” He could see his father was waiting with his mother near the doors, watching their group with the same look of displeasure he wore in the carriage this morning. He wanted to go with Byleth, wanted it so badly his skin practically burned with it, but he knew that he would be able to talk to her more soon.

They approached where Byleth was still seated and he pushed through his friends to reach her first. “I have to go, my father is waiting, but I just…” He chuckled and shook his head, feeling incredibly nervous at being this close to her. It seemed dramatic to say, ‘If I didn’t have the opportunity to speak to or touch you in the next five minutes, I was absolutely certain I was going to perish,’ so instead he went with, “Hi…”

“Hi…” she smiled as she huffed out a quiet laugh.

“I’ll see you there? Right? At the reception?”

“Yeah,” she nodded as she glanced toward his father, “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He released a sigh of relief and took her hand, lifting it until he could press a kiss to the back of it. She looked so small like this. The entire time they were together, she seemed larger than life—probably because he was a dog, but also because of all she managed to do. Towering over her now, that all seemed so silly. He was really struggling with letting go of her hand. She was here! She was right in front of him! After months of missing her, and dreaming about her, she was here. She looked so lovely it made his heart ache. Goddess, he was so glad no one could hear his thoughts. 

He quietly said, “I’ll see you soon, then?” 

“Just go,” she laughed, pulling her hand from his grasp. “Don’t keep your father waiting.”

Felix scoffed, “I wish you would,” as he held his arm out for Byleth, who took it. Byleth chuckled behind her hand, her eyes crinkled softly in amusement. Dimitri grabbed his arm and pulled him in the direction of his father as the knights who had walked down the aisle with the Prince came and circled them.

“And I thought I was bad,” Dimitri quietly chuckled. “I feel it is safe to say that you no longer have the grounds to tease me.”

“To be fair, I never had the grounds to tease you, Your Highness.” He winked at Dima, who rolled his eyes with a fond smile. 

“What did you mean when you said you didn’t give your father much of a choice when it came to you courting Miss Byleth?”

“I threatened to leave House Gautier,” he quietly admitted. They were too close to where the Margrave was waiting at the door for Dimitri to respond, but his wide eyes and the incredulous noise that escaped his throat said enough. 

“Your Highness,” his father greeted Dimitri with a saccharine grin and an elegant bow, “It is wonderful to see you again, and at such a lovely wedding for your dear friends.”

“Margrave Gautier, it’s always a pleasure.” He resisted the urge to snicker at Dimitri’s tone and the slight discomfort he could see in the crease of his eyes. Speaking with his father was never a pleasure. Though, he was much kinder to His Majesty and Dimitri than he was to literally anyone else.

“My apologies,” one of the knights to his left stepped forward with a bow and addressed Dimitri, “but we must be going, Your Highness.”

“It is no trouble,” he kindly assured the man with a smile. “I hope to see you both at the reception.” The pointed glance his direction told him he was in for an interrogation. Hopefully Ingrid would be too busy to join in, it might save his arms some bruising.

“Of course, Your Highness.” His father bowed again as Dimitri passed with his detail, making their way to the Royal Carriage that was waiting just outside at the base of the stairs. 

Once Dimitri was gone, his father turned to head toward where their own carriage was parked, only to stop when his wife didn’t follow. He followed his mother’s line of sight and found that she was staring at Byleth and his friends, who still stood where he’d left them.

“What a shame,” she hummed.

“What?” He regretted it as soon as he said it.

“She might actually be quite lovely, if it weren’t for those unsightly scars.” Her nose wrinkled slightly like she’d smelled something foul before turning to take her husband’s arm.

Without a second thought he said, “I think she’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.” His father gave a disapproving huff as his mother hummed, glancing back over her shoulder. As he climbed into the carriage he turned back toward the cathedral and saw Felix, Byleth, Annette, and Mercedes walking out of the doors. Byleth had a bright smile on her face as Annette held her arm, the redhead chattering animatedly about something as Felix smirked at them and Mercedes giggled into her fist. They all looked so happy juxtaposed to his parents normally solemn expressions as they took their seats.

He wanted to change things. He wanted to make his life better than he ever thought it would be. He wanted to marry Byleth, and make Gautier Manor into an actual home. His heart ached at the thought that she might say no, but as he sat back in his seat and glanced out the window, watching the cathedral slowly fade from view, he decided that he was going to make the best of whatever came. He wasn’t going to live like his parents, just because they expected him to.

His cheeks were sore from smiling so much today, a real one instead of his fake plastered on one. He really liked that feeling.

Much to his dismay, he found that he and his parents were ambushed by other members of the nobility as soon as they walked in the doors of Castle Blaiddyd. The King had taken his place at the high table, with his son at his right, Lord Rodrigue on his left, and Ingrid and Glenn beside Rodrigue. The couple had their heads tilted toward one another, whispering about something that made Ingrid laugh. They looked so cheerful, and he was overjoyed for them.

He somewhat recognized the young woman that stepped forward and invited him to dance as one of the “visitors” he’d met with over the last few months. Honestly, he couldn’t even remember her name. His father raised an eyebrow in warning, and left with no excuse, he agreed. He allowed himself to be dragged out onto the floor, listening to the young woman pout about the fact that he hadn’t called on her yet. Janessa, that was her name. She was the eldest daughter of a minor noble in the Alliance. He smiled when he was supposed to, nodded along with whatever she was saying, and tried to play it charming. Of course, as soon as the song was over, he tried to escape, only to have another female step forward and ask him to dance. 

He glanced over the ballroom and quickly noticed that his father and mother had made their way up to the high table, and his father was currently schmoozing His Majesty with a smarmy grin on his face. Dimitri caught his gaze and nodded in greeting, and he tried to silently cry out for help but he didn’t think it worked. 

He sighed in resignation and started the next dance. Teresa, was the name of this one—he figured that he wasn’t going to remember her past the next fifteen minutes. He knew he should try to be kind, but every time he looked down at her, all he could see was that same look in her eye. She was part of that group—the kind of woman that knew who he was, but thought she could be the one to settle him.

Little did she know, he’d already been settled. But where was the woman who’d captured his heart without even knowing? Hm? He kept glancing toward the door as they danced, all of the dance training he’d been forced through as a child the only reason that he wasn’t tripping all over Teresa, but he still hadn’t seen her or the others.

He did catch a glimpse of some other familiar faces, though.

He dipped Teresa at the end of the song, gave his most charming smile, and then walked purposefully away from the dancefloor, ignoring the women seeking his attention as he went. “Hilda! Caspar! How are you both?” He clasped arms with Caspar, and leaned down to kiss Hilda’s cheek.

“ _Sylvain_?! How are you?” Hilda looked radiant as usual, dressed in a long silver gown with silk gloves that came up past her elbows.

“I’m good! How’s married life?” 

“The best!” Caspar pumped his fist excitedly before wrapping an arm firmly around Hilda’s waist and pulling her against him with a boyish grin. “We’ve been traveling ever since the wedding, but we decided to head up here last because of the snow and stuff.”

“Cold is not a good look for me,” Hilda insisted, with an expression of mock sincerity.

He purred, “Is there anything that’s not a good look for you?” 

Hilda giggled into her hand before shrugging, “Fair point.”

Caspar asked, “Have you seen Lin? He said he was going to come and say hi.” He glanced around the ballroom again, but didn’t see a certain green-haired mage.

He shook his head. “Sorry, dude.” As he glanced toward the door, he finally caught sight of Byleth and the others, and his heart began to race. He distantly heard Caspar say something about food, and waved goodbye, but his eyes were firmly on Byleth.

Her eyes took in the room as well and eventually landed on his own, making a small smile curve her lips. “And who has Sylvain Gautier looking like that?” a familiar voice purred.

“Dorothea!” He tore his eyes away from Byleth to look down at the brunette, only slightly shocked to find that she was on the arm of one Ferdinand von Aegir. _What_? “You look absolutely lovely!”

“Isn’t she radiant?” Ferdinand sighed, looking awfully lovestruck himself. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d fallen in love with a commoner. Though, Dorothea always seemed like she couldn’t stand Ferdinand at the Academy…

“Oh stop,” she giggled into her fist. “You know what? Don’t. I enjoy the compliments.” He and Ferdinand both laughed, and she preened before glancing over toward where he had been staring. “Mercedes?” she guessed, raising an eyebrow in question.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” he chuckled, raising his arms to cross them behind his head.

“The commoner?!” Dorothea’s eyes lit up as she glanced over again, looking salaciously over Byleth’s form as she and the others made their way over. “My, my… isn’t she something? Don’t you think so, Ferdie?”

“She pales in comparison to your beauty, my heart,” was Ferdinand’s answer, earning a pat on the cheek from a pleased-looking Dorothea.

“Good boy.” Dorothea giggled into her fist before whispering, “I’m guessing mercenary. I mean, obviously, with those scars. So, what is she doing here?”

“If you’re looking for gossip, you should look elsewhere.” He knew his smile had more teeth than it should, but Dorothea matched it with her own sharp smile.

“Protective,” she hummed. “My, my… I never thought I’d see the day.” She turned to face the group as they approached and sang, “Mercedes, Annette! Always a pleasure. Also, Felix, I suppose.” Byleth chuckled into her fist before clearing her throat and standing up straight again, looking like she was trying awfully hard to stand like a lady, but failing in a way that was hopelessly endearing to him. “And who is this beauty?”

He had to bite back his own amused chuckle at the look of bewilderment that statement earned from Byleth. “I’m Byleth. I’m a friend of… theirs. Sort of.” She gestured vaguely toward the group and Felix rolled his eyes.

The swordsman far more efficiently explained, “I’ve been traveling with her mercenary troupe for the last few months.”

“Really?” Ferdinand perked up, suddenly finding interest in the conversation even if it wasn’t about himself. “How fascinating. I am Ferdinand von Aegir, and this is my intended, Dorothea Arnault.” _Intended_? The future Prime Minister of Adrestia was marrying a woman of common birth? That meant he wouldn’t be the only one… if Byleth accepted, of course. Felix glanced to him, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Maybe he thought the same

“Intended?! Congratulations, guys!” Annette squealed happily and pulled Dorothea into an embrace. 

Byleth bowed slightly at the waist, which looked odd when she was in a dress and earned an amused look from Dorothea. “von Aegir. I’m assuming you’re the Adrestian Prime Minister’s son, then? My troupe was just hired by your father a few months ago.” 

“You are part of the Blade Breaker’s crew?” Ferdinand’s eyes became appraising. “They are rather interesting to work with. For mercenaries, of course.”

Dorothea clicked her tongue chidingly before saying, “Now, Ferdie. What have we talked about?”

“Right,” Ferdinand dipped his head. “My sincerest apologies if that sounded condescending. I only meant to say that Jeralt the Blade Breaker is different from any mercenary the von Aegir family has ever worked with in the past. Some of the others have been… not as pleasant.”

“I’m sure my father would be pleased to hear that,” Byleth nodded, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It’s alright. Mercenaries have a bad reputation, and many of them have earned it.”

Ferdinand’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “The Blade Breaker is your father?” 

“She’s the Ashen Demon,” Felix announced, looking somewhat smug when Ferdinand became very excited. Byleth’s cheeks flushed the tiniest bit as she nodded in confirmation.

“How delightful! To think that such a renowned mercenary is of our same age. Why, that is absolutely fascinating! Though, if I recall, the Ashen Demon was not with their troupe when the crew arrived in Aegir territory. My father was quite cross at that fact.”

“I was… on another job,” her eyes darted to him for the slightest moment before flicking back to Ferdinand, “A solo one. Sometimes we’re needed in two places at once.” So that was the high paying job in the Empire that almost left him stranded in the middle of nowhere? Huh. He wondered what things would have been like if she's gone to Aegir territory instead, before _quickly_ pushing the thought away because it was far too scary to consider.

“Ah, the demands of a skilled mercenary must be taxing,” Ferdinand nodded politely. Dorothea smiled fondly and wrapped her arms around Ferdinand’s making him look down at her just as fondly.

Dorothea cooed, “We should go, darling. I want to say congratulations to my lovely Ingrid.” She glanced to the others as she said, “Lovely seeing you all, and meeting you Byleth. By the way, that dress is absolutely _stunning_.” There was one last salacious glance over from Dorothea before the couple turned and walked away, but not before she shot him an approving wink.

“Is she… always like that?” Byleth looked to him and he chuckled.

“She is. Though… I have to agree. You look…” He paused, considering the fact that pretty words were his go to, and they hadn’t gotten him very far the first time he tried with Byleth. Her eyebrow rose as he fumbled, before clearing his throat slightly and quietly saying, “You look beautiful. You… are beautiful.” Felix pinched the bridge of his nose as Annette suppressed a giggle with her hand.

“Annette made me put on makeup,” she sighed, her lip pushing out slightly in a put-upon pout. “And she wouldn’t let me bring my sword.”

“You don’t need to be armed at an event like this,” he chuckled. “You’re in Castle Blaiddyd, in the same room as the royal family. Some would argue it’s one of the safest places you could be.” He couldn’t help feeling charmed by her.

“Oh, I’m still armed,” she stated matter-of-factly. Both he and Felix gave her an appraising look-over for a moment, and he nearly passed out when she brought a hand to her upper thigh and he noticed the garter belt with a dagger tucked in it through the slit in her dress. 

Sweet _merciful_ Seiros he had to get this woman to marry him.

“I thought I told you not to bring the dagger?!” Annette firmly chided, making Mercedes giggle. “What are you going to do with one teensy little dagger, anyway?” 

“Oh,” Felix scoffed with a wry smirk, “You’d be surprised.”

“You know what? I don’t even want to know.” Annette shook her head fervently with wide eyes. 

“Besides, I have two.” Byleth shrugged like it was the simplest thing in the world. He quickly realized that pondering where that second dagger was would certainly make him far too excited for their current setting, so he frantically searched his mind for something else to think about.

He held out his hand to Byleth and asked, “Shall we go and greet the newly-married couple?”

“Oh! Look who’s up there!” Mercedes softly exclaimed. “Come, Byleth. You can meet the rest of the Lions!” 

As they started walking— _noticeably with Byleth not taking his hand, but whatever, it was fine_ —Byleth leaned over and quietly asked, “Lions?”

“Ingrid, Glenn, Dimitri, Felix, and I have been friends forever, but we only met Annette and Mercedes a year and a half ago at the Officer’s Academy. Our house was the Blue Lions. You know, like the Faerghus flag?” He gestured to several that lined the walls.

“Makes sense. How many more Lions are there?” 

“Just two.” He bent down slightly to take her hand, and looped it in his arm, noticing how tense she was as he did so. “Ashe and Dedue. See the silver-haired smaller guy, and the huge Duscur dude?” Byleth nodded in confirmation. “There’s the full pride,” he chirped with what was probably a goofy grin. His time at the Officer’s Academy was a relief from the pressure he always felt at home. Being with the Lions always felt more like being with family than being with his own family ever had. 

Byleth huffed a quiet laugh before commenting, “You look happy.”

“I am happy,” he answered. He glanced down at her as he added, “I’m especially happy you’re here.” She turned her face away from him, and his smile dimmed. He hesitantly asked, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, of course.” Her voice was quiet—small—and he couldn’t see her expression. He brought his free hand up to grasp hers, eager to get her to look at him, but she slipped her arm free of his grip. His heart sank like a stone, and he stopped walking, instead watching her back as she sped up to walk near Annette and Mercedes.

What was happening? Why was everything so… different? Why was everything so much easier between them when he was a _dog_? Now she would barely touch him. She always seemed to be pulling away. Why? Why did she sound so… sad?

“U-um… E-excuse me?” He turned toward the quivering voice, and found Bernadetta trembling beside him. 

“Bernadetta! I didn’t know you’d be here!” She flinched back slightly in the face of his excitement, and he tried to speak calmly as he asked, “What’s up?”

“W-would you…” she glanced off to the side before her grey eyes darted back to his, “Would you dance with me? Please? It’sfineifyoudon’twanttoItotallygetitwhywouldyouwanttodancewithstupidBernieI’lljust—”

He didn’t really understand that last part, but he held his hand out for her and answered, “Sure. Are you sure you want to dance, though? We could just… do anything else, if you don’t want to dance.” Her eyes flicked to the side again, and he followed her gaze to find a short thin man with identical silver eyes watching their interaction. “Oh… Your father?” Bernadetta’s eyes flicked down to the floor as she nodded. 

“Can I take your hand?” He held his out once more, and she looked between it and his face cautiously. “I figured we’d go where it’s not as crowded.” He gestured with his head toward the area of the room where her father wouldn’t be able to watch them, and her eyes widened as she nodded. He took her hand, glancing over to see that Count Varley looked satisfied, and led her toward the less crowded area where the older gentleman wouldn’t be able to watch them. “Is this alright?”

Bernadetta nodded viciously and murmured, “T-thanks.”

He chuckled softly and replied, “I totally get it… sort of.” He remembered Byleth’s story about Count Varley, and realized that he probably didn’t. “My father can be… really controlling.”

“I-it’s awful,” she whispered.

“How about we just take it slow?” He held out his arms as he normally would for dancing, which was slightly awkward with their height difference, but he made do. She hesitantly stepped into his hold, and he began to lead her in a slow waltz.

She quietly admitted, “I-Ingrid invited me, and my father forced me to come.”

“Oh.” He grimaced a little and glanced up toward the high table, only to find Felix watching him with an eyebrow raised. “I’m really sorry. I think she was just trying to be nice and reach out, though it seems like that kind of failed.” He could imagine why her father wanted her here. There were plenty of eligible matches at the reception, drawn in by the promise of chances at elevating their social standings. Bernadetta was part of a powerful house in the Empire, and bore a Crest. She was probably being treated just like Mercedes—her father was probably trying to wed her to the most powerful match he could find.

Which… under normal circumstances would be him. The Count probably forced her to come and ask him to dance.

“Oh… It was nice,” she mumbled, looking down at her shoes.

“Would you… like to hang out with my friends and I? You don’t have to, but it would at least get you away from your father for the evening? It’s Dedue, Ashe, Annette, Mercedes, and Felix. Oh, and a girl you haven’t met before… Byleth.”

“U-um… sure.” She gave a small smile. “T-thanks. You’re being a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.” Her eyes widened as soon as the words left her mouth and she shook her head frantically as she began apologizing, but he just laughed.

“No, it’s okay. I have a reputation, I get it. But… well… we’re more alike than you’d think.” She looked completely baffled, so he quietly asked, “Can you keep a secret?” She hesitantly nodded, so he told her the very quick version of what had happened to him, including everything about his brother, and his father. She listened with wide eyes, taking in every single detail he gave her as they swayed back and forth. The song changed, but they continued dancing as he told her everything.

“W-wow.” She sort of just stared wide eyed for a while after he’d finished, before placing her head on his chest. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Oh, I didn’t tell you for sympathy… I just wanted you to know that there are others out there, ya know? You don’t have to be alone… not if you don’t want to. But it’s totally fine if you want to! I mean, no pressure.”

“No wonder you’re so different now.”

He chuckled softly and nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.” Their second song ended, and he searched the ballroom for his friends, finding them sitting at one of the tables where people were partaking of the refreshments. “Do you need to speak with your father before coming to hang out with us?” 

She tilted her head thoughtfully before mumbling, “He’ll probably see, anyway.”

“Good point.” He held out his hand to her and asked again, “Do you mind if I take your hand?” She nodded, looking far more comfortable this time, and he looped it in his elbow. “Alright! Let’s go.”

“B-Bernadetta! Hi!” Ashe was the first to greet them with a hesitant wave of his hand. Bernadetta sent a small wave back, though she seemed to step slightly behind him like he was a shield. Felix looked him over with a questioning gaze, and he shrugged.

“Would you like to come and sit by me?” Mercedes softly invited. He couldn’t think of someone who could make Bernadetta more comfortable than Mercedes, and it seemed Bernadetta felt the same. Dedue immediately stood from the seat beside her and indicated to Bernadetta that she should sit before walking to a nearby table and grabbing another chair, and the timid girl slowly made her way over. When he glanced around, Byleth was watching him, though she looked down at the flute of champagne in her hand when their eyes met. 

“Sorry I disappeared there, for a second. I couldn’t turn down an invitation to dance from Bernadetta!” She blushed sweetly and buried her face in her hands, which made him wonder if he had taken it too far. _Well... different topic then._ “We weren’t able to rescue Dimitri?” Noticeably, the prince wasn’t at the table with them, and Felix shook his head.

It was Dedue who solemnly explained, “His Majesty has requested that Dimitri be there to greet everyone.”

He woefully sighed, “Ah, such is life as the golden prince.” He then made his way over to Byleth and leaned down to quietly ask, “Would you dance with me?” 

Her eyes darted between where people were dancing and his face. “I don’t…”

He pleaded, “Please?” He noticed the tension in her shoulders, and the fact that she hid her hands beneath the table. She bit at her bottom lip, and he realized that she was nervous. He saw that Felix was watching her out of the corner of his eye as he took a sip of the wine in his hand. 

“Sure.” She slowly pushed back from the table, and he took her hand to help her to her feet. She didn’t pull away, so he held it the whole way out to the dancefloor, slowing so they could enter during a slow waltz. “I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted with a shake of her head. 

“Why don’t you let me lead, then?” He coaxed one of her hands to his shoulder, before taking the other in his own. Then, he pulled her close, closer than was strictly necessary or even convenient for a waltz, and placed a hand on the small of her back. He started to lead, though he kept it very simple and slower than the beat of the music that was playing, but he didn’t care. This was the closest they had been since they’d reunited, and his heart was beating like crazy in his chest at their proximate. He wanted more more _more_.

She commented, “You didn’t greet Ingrid and Glenn.”

“I’m sure they won’t miss me,” he joked, though she was still looking off to the side instead of at him. “Bernadetta asked me to dance. I think her father forced her to, and…” She glanced up at him as he trailed off and he sighed, “I didn’t want to upset her, or make her deal with her disappointed father.”

She nodded with a quiet hum of acknowledgement. “Count Varley… what am awful man. I wish there was something I could do for Bernadetta, but I feel like my brand of help is…” 

“A bit too pointed,” he finished with a snort of laughter.

“Jokes, huh?” Her eyes crinkled, and for a moment they just stared at one another, neither of them listening to the music or doing much but swaying together. She released a breathy chuckle, that one that he’d been thinking about for months now, and added, “That was a cheesy one.”

He took their joined hands and placed them over his rapidly beating heart as he pouted, “You wound me, my Lady.”

She glanced around the dancefloor as she quietly said, “I’m no Lady.” He fumbled around for a reply—the question ‘do you want to be?’ didn’t seem like the best way to convince her to court him—but she quickly changed topics. “Ashe and Dedue seem nice.”

“They are,” he answered in a sigh. He wasn’t sure why they were making small talk, but he wondered if he should even push it with how she’d been acting so far.

“Is it normal that a young man from Duscur attended the Officer’s Academy as a Blue Lion?”

“It was part of an outreach King Lambert made in effort to strengthen relations with Duscur. Dedue is a member of one of the families that are sort of like nobility over there, and he traveled here to attend the Academy.”

“That’s nice,” she said with a soft smile. “Maybe it will help normalize seeing people from Duscur within the Kingdom. Or just help people realize that people from other places shouldn’t be looked down upon because they aren’t from Fodlan.” 

His fingers flexed against Byleth’s back, pulling her slightly closer to him. “The normal way of things… it’s changing. I hope it continues to do so.”

“You _are_ one of the people who can make that happen, you know?” She lightly squeezed his shoulder and looked to him as the side of her lips quirked up. “I know you feel a lot of pressure about it, but I think you’ll be a great Margrave Gautier, just by being who you are.”

He wryly commented, “For the longest time, all I’ve been is a skirt chaser with a silver tongue.”

“That’s not who you actually are,” she chided as she shook her head.

“Who am I, then?” She looked up to him in surprise and he quickly insisted, “I’d like to know what you think. You’ve always had the ability to see right through me, so… what do you see?” He held his breath unintentionally, and as he stared down at her, utterly smitten, he could hear his heartbeat racing in his ears. He wanted her to see what all of his friends saw—that he was in love with her, that he wanted to be with her for the rest of his days. He wanted her to see a man she could rely on, one that she could trust, one that she could love in return.

Whatever she did see, it made her turn her face away. “You are Sylvain. You are loyal. You love your friends, and would do just about anything for them. You care about others, even when you want to pretend you don’t. You… have been hurt,” he released a shuddered exhale and she paused to look up at him with those eyes that he wanted to stare into forever, “but… you are on the mend. I am glad that I met you, Sylvain.”

The song finished, and the dancing couples around them began to split from their partners. Byleth began to pull away, but he clutched her hand even tighter in an effort to make her stay. She tilted her head ever so slightly as she said, “Let’s get you back to your friends.”

He bit back a disappointed sigh as he followed her back toward the table. “How is your father?”

“He’s alright. He’s… slightly perplexed with everything that has happened the last few months, but that’s understandable.”

His brow furrowed in confusion as he prodded, “What do you mean?”

“Well… he wasn’t really expecting this,” she gestured vaguely to their surroundings, “when I agreed to help you get home.” 

“I still don’t understand…” They arrived back at the table, and he turned toward her, but she had walked over and was whispering something to Annette, who nodded and stood.

“We’ll be right back,” Annette chirped, and then the two women linked arms and strode away. He stared after them for a moment before sinking into the chair that Annette had vacated and dropping his head to the table with an exaggerated groan. Screw propriety. Screw prim and proper. Felix clicked his tongue and pulled on his shoulder, forcing him to sit up.

“The dancing didn’t go well?” Mercedes asked, sitting on his other side. Bernadetta was looking at him sympathetically and fiddling with her fingers in her lap, while Dedue and Ashe just looked confused. 

“Everything is so _different_ now.” It came out as a whine, and Felix rolled his eyes.

“What were you expecting? That things would be exactly the same as they were before? That she was going to pull you into her lap and pet you on the head while she tells you you’re a good boy.”

“Fuck off,” he snapped back.

Felix narrowed his eyes. “No. Don’t you get how weird this is for her? It took me days to convince her to come in the first place.”

“A-ah… what’s happening?” Ashe looked between them nervously and Felix crossed his arms with a huff.

“I believe they are arguing about Miss Byleth,” Dedue answered, “perhaps we should…”

“Ashe!” Felix’s voice cracked like a whip and the poor young man startled. “How were the first few weeks living with House Rowe?”

“W-what?”

“You were a commoner before Lord Lonato pulled you into his life—”

Ashe nervously chuckled, “Well, he _adopted_ me, but I suppose that’s one way to phrase it.”

“Whatever. How were the first few weeks living at House Rowe?”

“U-um… strange. Not… not bad, but different. It took a long time to get adjusted. Sometimes I still feel like I shouldn’t be here.” Ashe looked down at his lap, and oddly enough, it was Bernadetta that reached over and patted his shoulder before pulling her hand back with a little squeak. “Why?”

Felix lifted an eyebrow and turned to face him as he answered, “Sylvain doesn’t get why Byleth is acting different today, from when they were traveling alone together.” 

“O-Oh….” Green eyes blew wide as he said a little more forcefully, “Oh! Oh, I see. That would be confusing.”

“This is probably a stressful situation for her,” Mercedes cooed as she took his hand and squeezed it between her own. “This is a grand event, she’s surrounded by nobility, and she doesn’t know how to act. It might not be about you, personally.”

“But she won’t… _talk_ to me. She pulls away when I touch her—”

“Margrave Gautier and the majority of Fodlan’s nobility are in the room, several of them watching you,” Dedue interjected in a low voice. “She is of common birth, and you are the heir to a powerful household. She likely acknowledges the fact that to dwell around you too much would likely cause people to look upon you harshly.”

“I don’t care how other people see me,” he exasperatedly insisted. Wasn't that obvious? He'd been known as a silver-tongued skirtchaser for years now. Everyone expected him to be a thoughtless asshole, which... at some points he was, but _still!_

“She does,” Mercedes softly replied, “because she cares about you.”

“But all of the other women I’ve been with…”

Felix brusquely countered, “Didn’t give one lick about your reputation. You know that. Most of those women were after one thing, and they didn't care about the consequences as long as they achieved it.”

“What are we talking about?” Annette chirped from behind him, and he whirled around to face her.

“The fact that Sylvain’s an idiot,” Felix stated matter-of-factly.

“I-I wouldn’t say that,” Ashe plead in his favor. “He just doesn’t quite understand what it’s like for those of common birth to be placed in these situations.”

“Oh,” Annette pouted. 

“Where’s Byleth?” He glanced around, but couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Oh! Your father wanted to speak with her! I just left—”

“What?!” He leapt to his feet, making Annette jump backward in surprise. 

“Yeah! He was like “I’d like to speak with you” and she was like “you can go, Annette” so I came back here.” She looked over their faces before slowly saying, “…Why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You left Byleth with Sylvain’s asshole of a father,” Felix sighed, sounding a little disappointed.

“Oh, Annie…” Mercedes frowned sympathetically. 

He took hold of her arms as he hurriedly asked, “Where are they?”

“H-he’s not going to h-hurt her, i-is he?” Bernadetta’s voice was meek and wavering as she hunched down in her seat.

“Violence isn’t the Margrave’s style,” Felix brusquely stated. It was probably meant to make Bernadetta feel better, but it missed the mark.

“No, but finding a way to ruin everything is! Please, Annette!” The poor girl was staring like she had no clue what was going on, though she did seem genuinely worried for Byleth.

She stammered, “We were just outside the ballroom when he stopped us.” She pointed in the direction that she had come from, and he let her go before starting to make his way there.

“I’m coming with you,” Felix called as he pushed back from the table. When he spared a glance back, he explained, “They could be anywhere by now. You’ll need help.” 

They made their way through the ballroom as quickly as they could without drawing unnecessary attention, before finally exiting through the doors that Annette had indicated. Predictably, they were no longer there, and he ran his hands through his hair with a frustrated groan.

As they continued down the hallway, looking everywhere for a head of blue hair, Felix asked, “What’s going on? Why is it such a bad thing that your father is talking to Byelth? I get that he’s an asshole, but…”

“I told my father that if Byleth said no to my proposal, I’d let him draft a proposal for Mercedes’ hand.”

“You said _what_?!”

“I know it was stupid! I was just…” he ran a hand down his face, “It was stupid. But now I’m terrified that he’s going to say something and it’s… He’s going to ruin everything so he can get his way!”

“Hey!” Felix flagged down one of the knights patrolling the hallway with a wave of his hand. “Have you seen Margrave Gautier? He might have been with a woman with blue hair, wearing a maroon dress?” The knight pointed further down the hallway, right as a door slammed. 

Byleth walked out from behind the next corner, looking thoroughly ruffled and his heart sank. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her eyes were narrowed and dangerous as she stormed toward them. Pools of blue met his gaze for the barest moment before flicking right past him. “What happened?”

She gritted out, “Nothing,” and didn’t bother stopping when she reached them. She strode right past him without so much as a glance.

“The Margrave’s a real treasure, isn’t he?” Felix quipped, though he sobered when Sylvain sent him a sharp glance.

He turned to race after as he said, “I’m so sorry! What did he say?”

She snapped, “Nothing I didn’t already know.” 

“Will you… will you please just stop?” He lunged forward and grabbed her arm, only for her to pin him to the wall with her arm against his throat. She let him go immediately, her eyes wide like she hadn’t fully intended to do that. 

“I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He half-heartedly joked, “I should have known better than to grab you like that. It’s not like it worked well the first time.” Her expression became stormy again as she turned to walk further down the hallway. “Please, just wait!”

She shook her head and without looking back said, “I shouldn’t be here, Sylvain. It was foolish of me to even come.”

He trailed after her again, not having any clue of what else to do. Felix made himself scarce as they passed the doors to the ballroom, but he continued following her toward the entrance of the castle, itself. “Why? Ingrid and Glenn wanted you here. Felix wanted you here. I wanted you here!”

All she said in reply was, “This is your life, not mine.”

“Byleth.” She didn’t turn back, nor did she slow down. “Byleth, look at me!” She whirled around to face him with her eyes narrowed and her chin raised defiantly. “I’m sorry.”

Her defiance faltered somewhat as she asked, “For what?”

“For my father, for everything that happened with Miklan, for being an asshole when we first met, I’m sorry for all of that.” He took the necessary steps forward to close the distance between them and slowly settled his hands on her arms. “I’m sorry that you don’t feel comfortable here. But mostly I’m sorry that I’m so fucking selfish because I still want you to be here. I want you to be here _with me_.”

“Don’t…” Byleth tried to take a step back but he stopped her.

“My entire life… people have only seen me for my name, my Crest, my title. Even my parents… When they chose me to be the heir, it wasn’t because they felt I would be a good leader, it was because I was ‘blessed’ with a fluke in my blood. When they look at me, all they see is their future, their legacy. But… you… You stood by me when I was nothing. I was rude, arrogant, dismissive, even though I had absolutely no reason to be, and you still helped me. When I was at my lowest, you were there to support me, and I—”

He was forced to stop talking when he found his lips otherwise occupied. In one smooth motion Byleth stood up on her toes wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a kiss, one that quickly turned passionate and needy as he wrapped one of his arms around her waist to pull her against him, and buried the other in dusty blue hair.

Goddess… Every one of his senses was completely engulfed in Byleth. He could taste her as she parted her lips and he deepened the kiss. He could smell her, the tell-tale smell of lavender and sword oil that still clung to her, even when she was dressed for an event like this. He could feel her beneath his hands, could feel the way she shivered as he moved his fingers along the length of her spine. Everything was _Byleth, Byleth, Byleth_.

He pulled back to breathe and panted, “Wait… I wasn’t finished.”

“Don’t.” She pulled him back down for another kiss, but he pulled back.

His voice wavered as he asked, “Don’t what?”

She shook her head, still trying to pull him back down for a kiss, and he realized she was trying to distract him from the conversation. “Don’t say whatever you’re going to say. It’s not… it’s not necessary.”

His heart twisted painfully in his chest. “Not necessary?” 

His expression must have showed how he was feeling because she quickly looked away as she stammered, “I know I can’t be with you, I know that. I can’t… I can’t be a part of this world, I don’t fit. But… but we can do this, and it will be—”

“Do what?” He pulled away from her touch like he’d been burned and glared down at her. “You’re just going to fuck me and then leave again?! Is that what this is?!”

He was alarmed to find that her eyes filled with tears as she cried out, “What do you expect me to do?! This is what you wanted, right?!”

“No!” He rushed forward and took her face in his hands, wiping the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. “Maybe in the beginning, but now…” He shook his head and whispered, “I love you…” He chuckled weakly and pulled her into another kiss. “Goddess that feels so good to say. I love you. I do. And I don’t want you to leave. Not ever.”

Her voice was pleading as she said, “You’re just making this harder.”

He reached inside the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out the special dagger he had made for her. “I want you to accept this. And if you do… it will signify that you are my intended. It will signify that… that I am doing everything in my power to prove that I am worthy of having someone as beautiful, caring, and strong as you at my side. It will signify that I am completely, utterly, head over heels in love with you, and that I wish to make you my wife.”

“Your _wife_? Are you insane?” She shook her head and stammered, “Your father… he’ll never allow that.”

“I’ve already discussed this with him. He never should have said whatever he said to you just now. He knows that if he interferes, I’ll leave House Gautier. And I will. We’ll go wherever you want, do whatever you want to do.”

She looked completely lost, like she was still trying to understand what was happening as she looked between his face and the dagger in his hands. “You can’t… you can’t do that.”

“Being part of House Gautier has brought me nothing but pain. I want to be with you, and if you can’t be with me here, then I’ll be wherever you are.”

“What about your people? Your territory?”

“My asshole father will have to find a way to produce a new heir.”

She shook her head and quietly argued, “It’s not that simple. You and I both know that.” 

“I know it’s probably selfish… but… I want to be happy with you. If you can’t be happy being a Margrave’s wife, I understand, but that just means I can’t be Margrave Gautier.” He kissed her again, he couldn’t help it. Now that he’d had a taste, he didn’t think he’d ever have enough. “Being up in Gautier without you the last few months has been miserable. The manor has never made me feel at home. You. You make me feel safe. I want you to be my home.”

“This is... _insane_ ,” she laughed, sounding incredulous as she shook her head from side to side.

“Probably. But we’ve gone through worse, haven’t we?” He rested his forehead against hers and whispered, “I thought I’d never be able to tell you how I felt. Watching you almost die after Miklan’s attack, not being able to talk anymore when you woke up… Those were two of the scariest moments of my entire life.”

She exhaled, “Me too,” and reached up to cling to his lapels like she wanted to keep him close. 

"I should have said all of this sooner, but I was too much of a coward. I've been aching to hold you like this for far too long, and I feared I'd never be able to, but I won't be a coward any longer. I want you by my side, forever." He placed the dagger in her hand and pleaded, “Say yes. Be my intended. We’ll figure out the rest together.”

She pulled away, and he worried that she might try to leave again, but instead she looked over the dagger with an analyzing look in those deep pools of blue. She had the look of a mercenary, examining a weapon. He’d had the sheathe crafted to match her hair, with a ruby encrusted in the hilt. He’d paid a small fortune to have it done in time to leave for the wedding, but it was well worth it when he saw it in her capable hands.

She pulled it from the sheath and inspected the blade itself as she asked, “A dagger? Don’t people normally give something… normal? Like a ring?”

He chuckled nervously as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I thought you’d like this more. I’ll buy you a ring when we marry.”

She raised an eyebrow with a playful tilt of her head. “When?” 

He dropped down to his knees, giving up all pretense that he wasn't begging, and put his hands over her much smaller ones on the dagger. “Marry me. I swear if you’ll give me the chance, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make you happy. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

And then, because she was a minx that he would spend the rest of his days worshiping like she was the goddess herself, she pushed aside the slit in her dress, baring the garter belt on her upper thigh, and handed him the dagger. With reverent hands he replaced the old dagger with his own, the blue of the sheathe contrasting beautifully with the pallor of her skin. After stowing the old dagger away in his pocket, he drew his hand up the back of her leg, making her sigh softly before he stood and pulled her into a heady kiss…

Only for someone to cheer jubilantly a few feet away. Byleth pulled back with a breathless chuckle as Felix called out, “Get a room! That’s just disgusting!”

Annette excited squealed, “But they’re so _cute_! Just _look_ at them!” And when he turned with Byleth to look at their so-called audience, he found Felix’s face was bright red as Annette clung to his arm, jumping up and down in apparent glee. Mercedes had happy tears in her eyes and a soft smile on her face when she stepped out past the corner they’d been hiding behind, Ashe was chuckling as Bernadetta clung to his arm giggling quietly, and Dedue watched with a pleased smile on his face.

“How long have you guys been there?!” He turned when Byleth chuckled and accused, “You knew!”

She grinned, the mischief in her eyes intoxicating, and shrugged. “They only heard the good parts. What’s the harm?” 

He placed his hand over his heart in mock hurt and exclaimed, “The _good_ parts?!”

“They showed up right around the time I told you this is _completely_ insane.” She was smiling though, and she pulled at his collar until he leaned down and kissed her again.

“You guys are so cute!” Annette squealed again, flying down the hallway and launching herself into them. The other Lions (and Bernadetta) trickled over and it became a group hug of sorts, with Sylvain pressed up against Byleth in the center.

She rested her head on his chest, and he held her there, feeling content. That is, until she said, “Now you have to try and win over my father.”

Felix laughed, a rare Felix Hugo Fraldrius laugh before snickering, “You poor bastard.”

“No,” he shook his head as he ran his fingers through Byleth’s hair, “I’m the luckiest bastard in all of Fodlan.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY!!!!!! He did it! THEY did it! It's always hard to convey things when you don't have multiple POVs, but hopefully you all can get where Byleth was coming from, and why her mood was kinda all over the place the last few chapters.
> 
> As you can hopefully see, there is one more chapter. I'm going to write a cute little epilogue for these guys, filling in all of the blanks for what happens after the proposal. (I really just wanted to end the chapter on a good note. These two deserve it after everything I've put them through.) I'm hoping to post it soon but things are a BIT crazy for me right now. Keep an eye out, and write a comment if you have thoughts! I love hearing from you all!
> 
> Happy holidays, people! Love you all! Oh, and be safe and take care of your mental health. You've got this!


	13. Chapter 13

20th Horsebow Moon of the year 1185

He’d been forced to wake before the dawn this morning in his desire to finish the work that was required of him before he took the rest of the evening off for the festivities. Fatigue threatened to cloud his mind, but he splashed water on his face and resolved that tonight would be full of only joy. No work, no fatigue, only Byleth.

He walked down the hallways of Gautier Manor, marveling at how much his childhood home had changed since the day Byleth came to make it her home—and since Byleth came and made it _his_ home. His parents had been reluctant— _Do you even know how long that vase has been in the Gautier line?!_ —but he and Byleth had several of those items safely packaged and sent with his parents to their apartment in Fhirdiad, where his mother and father had taken up permanent residence the day after his father had ceded the title of Margrave to him. Gone were the dreary artifacts of generations past that used to haunt every nook and cranny. He and Byleth had made the place their own, a place where they could be a family.

It had been difficult almost every step of the way, starting from the morning after the wedding when he rode with his fiancée toward her family—her father and their mercenaries. His future father-in-law had greeted him gruffly, though he did not seem quite as shocked ( _appalled_ ) as his own parents had been when they announced their engagement. _“Saw that damn look in her eyes,”_ Jeralt had grumbled as he pulled Byleth to his chest, _“It’s how her mother used to look at me. Thought I might never see that.”_

Jeralt demanded that they get to know each other in what he was quickly realizing was the Eisner way—fighting. And Jeralt was _not_ gentle. After a full days’ worth of sparring and training, he’d clasped a hand on his sore shoulder and mumbled, _“You run out on her and I’ll pummel whatever’s left when she’s done with you,”_ then nodded toward where Byleth waited with a devilish grin and a waterskin. 

Luckily, he had her to nurse him all evening, so he couldn’t complain too loudly. 

Byleth wouldn’t say it aloud, but he knew that it hurt her to leave Jeralt behind as they made their way up to Gautier territory. In an effort to cheer her up—and stall their return, because he was still on cloud nine that she had said _yes_ —they took several detours on the way to the Manor so he could show her all of his favorite places. Being on the road with her was so pleasant, he’d asked her more than once if she was certain she didn’t want to just run away together. Each time he asked, she’d nestle into his lap, kiss him senseless, and then tell him that he had work to do as Margrave. 

Perhaps Annette had been correct in the assumption that Byleth had put a spell over him, because he found he normally agreed to whatever she said after one of those moments.

Such had been the case when she’d informed him one month after arriving in Gautier—before they had married—that she would be moving into the knight’s barracks for the time being. To say that he had objected was far too mature a word for what he actually did, which was whine and plead until she’d kissed him senseless again. He’d grown accustomed to her sleeping beside him—she had a room across the Manor, but they weren’t even attempting to be secretive—and he didn’t want to sacrifice that to the knights! But… she was firm in her desire, and he acquiesced, knowing she probably had a reason for wanting to do so.

She was still within the boundary of the Manor, so it wasn’t as if he didn’t see her regularly during her time staying there. When he’d go to visit her—which was every possible moment he could slip away from his paperwork and other boring duties—he’d find her training with and lecturing the knights that served House Gautier. Before the passing of the moon, each knight under his family’s banner recognized Byleth as an indomitable warrior, one to be respected and feared, should any think to betray them as those who had followed Miklan to his grave had.

He should have known that his tactically-minded fiancée would have a plan of attack for taking over as Margravine, as unconventional as her methods were. She’d showed up at the door to his room one night with her bags, kissed him breathless, and then informed him that she was satisfied with the knights, so the servants were next.

To be quite honest, he only learned the names of many of the servants of his household after Byleth had started dropping names in passing and he had no idea who she was speaking of. To say that she had been disappointed in him was putting it kindly, but he’d taken the time to get to know the vast majority of them after she’d lectured him on the fact that just because they spent their days and nights in his service didn’t make them any less of a person.

Now he knew Gertrude, who had two children—a girl and a boy—and lived in the village just outside the Manor’s boundary. She brought him Bergamont tea in the mornings, and she was married to Bruce, the man that normally snuck Storm extra apples because Byleth had bribed him with the treats that the cooks had been teaching her to make. Once he got to know Gertrude, it was easy to get to know the other people in his service.

In hindsight, that was probably the true reason that Gautier Manor had changed so much since Byleth had arrived. Instead of nameless faces that barely looked him in the eye when he walked by—not that he had ever expressed permission for them to address him in the first place—he now greeted Tilly, one of their maids who walked past him with a hamper of laundry and a bright smile, as he walked toward the training room. He now noticed the people that made every facet of his life work, and he was fond of them and how much they doted on his wife.

His mother had nearly fainted one day when she found Byleth on her hands and knees helping the maids polish her bedroom floor, but that was a regular occurrence in the first few months after her arrival. (A habit that she kept even to this day.) She regularly helped the groundskeepers to split wood for the many fireplaces in the Manor, made runs into town for the ingredients necessary for a special supper, or helped to repair things around the Manor. If someone was ill, or had just had a baby, she would offer to step in and help. It was hard for the servants to accept at first, but he could see the respect that they had for her because of her willingness to help. 

Soon, every person on his father’s payroll was completely enamored with Byleth. To be frank, he wouldn’t be able to run out on her even if he _wanted_ to, because Gautier Manor would probably implode if he so much as laid a finger on another woman. At the very least, he’d certainly find himself without his many luxuries. Not that such a desire had even crossed his mind since the day he’d brought her home, he was as enamored with her today as he had been then.

It had been trying for Byleth to adjust to life at the Manor. There were many nights he’d find her on the windowseat in their bedroom, her knees tucked to her chest and a faraway look in her eye as she told him a story of her time on the road with her father. He knew she missed the freedom she used to have, and most of all, he knew how much she missed her father. He was relieved when three years into their marriage, Jeralt decided to retire from mercenary work—passing control of the Blade Breaker crew to a trusted right-hand. His father-in-law built a house just outside the village near the Manor, and the older warrior was a regular visitor now that his parents had moved to Fhirdiad. (Jeralt did not get along with his parents. Though, to be fair, he didn’t either.) 

She still struggled when it came to attending fancier events, and hosting other members of nobility, but she enjoyed traveling with him whenever his presence was required elsewhere. She was far different as a Margravine than his mother ever had been, and he loved her all the more for it. Such a fact was even more apparent when he walked into the training room to find Byleth and Felix brawling on the floor, both sword wielders vying for the upper-hand as they grunted and spat insults at one another. 

He made his way to one of the benches were Annette sat, humming quietly as she tenderly rubbed her swollen belly with one hand, and held a book in the other. Her eyes lit up as he called, “I figured I’d find you all here. How long have they been at it?” Felix and Annette had arrived three days ago to spend some time with them before Annette had the baby, and to attend the party this evening. As such, Byleth and Felix had spent most of that time training and sparring, and he had unfortunately had to spend much of that time working.

“Let’s just say I only started this book when we entered the training room.” She lifted an eyebrow as she showed him that she had gone through a solid portion of the book and giggled softly. “Felix has been waiting weeks for this. I’m hoping he’ll finally shut up about his blade growing dull when we head back to Fraldarius.”

“I heard that, traitorous woman!” her husband indignantly shouted from where he was pinned beneath Byleth. Heat coiled in his stomach as he silently wished that he and Felix could switch places. His wife looked so damned sexy right now.

“Good, my handsome husband!” Annette called back before blowing him a kiss. The fact that Felix still blushed like that after three years of being married to Annette— _not to mention impregnating the woman!_ —was extremely amusing, though he knew he had very little leverage in that regard.

“How are you feeling?” He glanced toward her belly, and she set aside her book to grab his hand and bring it to the rounded surface. He startled as he felt the babe within kick against his palm.

“Feel that? I’m going to have another fighter on my hands.”

His sympathy was sincere as he cooed, “You poor, poor woman.” Annette’s eyes softened as she placed her hand near his and joined him in feeling the movement within her belly. “I’ll be praying that they go through the cute stage first, like Felix did, just for your sake.”

“I appreciate that.”

“You are both the worst!” Byleth laughed at Felix’s frustration, standing in a ready stance with training blade in hand, their last bout having ended in her favor. She sent him a wink as they locked eyes, and Felix attempted to use her momentary distraction as he lunged forward.

He sat down beside Annette and called out, “One more bout and then I’m stealing my lovely wife back, you fiend! We still have to get ready for the party tonight!” 

Annette turned her head to ask, “When are the others arriving?” 

“Ashe and Bernadetta are resting in their room, Dedue and Mercedes are in the kitchen—I’m fairly certain Patricia is attempting to write down every Duscur recipe Dedue is willing to share. And I believe Glenn and Ingrid should be arriving with Dimitri and Delilah before sundown.” Dimitri had married a woman that he met on one of his visits to Duscur a little over a year ago. The wedding had been a ridiculously huge event that finally cemented the relationship between Faerghus and Duscur, though it wasn’t political. Dimitri was completely smitten by her, and openly worshipped the ground she walked on.

“Oh! I haven’t spent much time with Delilah, yet. This will be exciting!” Annette grunted somewhat as she moved to try and stand, until he quickly stood and helped her to her feet. “Can you believe I have two more months of this? I’m already huge!” 

He ducked down to place a kiss on her cheek as he assured her, “You’re as lovely as ever.”

“Hands off my wife, asshole.” He turned to see Felix approaching them, wiping sweat from his brow with a spare towel. Whether that had been a ridiculously fast bout, or they had been eager to finish because of his presence, he wasn’t sure.

“Strong words from the man who was just rolling around on the floor with mine,” he teased, grinning smugly when Felix flustered. “You’re lucky I’m not a jealous man, Fe.”

Byleth ran over and leapt into his arms, straddling his waist as she kissed him, and he basked in all of her sweaty glory. She pulled back with a smirk and replied, “We all know that’s not true, baby.” Even after all this time he preened at the pet name. Yes, he was aware she only did it because he loved it, and yes, he was aware he had the best wife ever.

He squeezed her legs possessively and nipped at her ear, growling, “Well, you’re too damn hot for your own good. I can’t help it.”

“Get a room,” Felix groaned, wrapping an arm around Annette's waist as he kissed her sweetly on the cheek. Affection still wasn’t Felix’s forte, but Annette had secretly commented to him once that she thought the fact that he was with Byleth spurned the swordsman on. Always the competitive soul, their Felix.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Without putting Byleth down—despite her weak protests—he walked toward the doors to the training grounds. He called over his shoulder, “Everyone is meeting in the lounge in two hours! Maybe we’ll see you then!”

Byleth laughed brightly before calling through the closing doors, “We’ll see you guys soon!” 

“Not too soon. I’m formally demanding time alone with my wife.”

“I thought it was my birthday?” she teased.

He bantered back, “And as such, I have husbandly duties to fulfill.”

She wistfully sighed, “I should hope so. Your other duties have kept you terribly busy lately, my husband.” The mirth in her eyes told him she wasn’t actually upset about that fact, but he certainly was. Far too many nights he was stumbling into bed in the dead of night, with Byleth already fast asleep. To make matters worse, she was an early riser and would often be gone by the time he woke, already working on whatever tasks she had set for the day. He only kept one of his father’s retainers, as such a majority of the tedious paperwork and other duties that his father normally pawned off on others fell to him. He’d barely spent any time with Byleth since he’d officially become Margrave a year ago, that’s why nights like this were so special.

He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them before pressing Byleth against it and kissing her fervently. When she pulled away to trail kisses down his jaw he panted, “Have I ever told you how much I adore you?” She huffed a quiet laugh before nipping at his ear.

“Frequently enough,” she nodded.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” he groaned, stealing another kiss. The in a needy whine he pouted, “I’ve been so busy lately. I miss you.”

“No pouting, my love. We have guests to attend to.”

He purred, “Other matters take priority,” before carrying her to the bed.

  
As he washed her hair—it had gotten far longer over the years with the lack of necessity to cut it and he absolutely loved it—she quietly commented, “I can’t believe Felix and Annette are going to be parents soon.”

“Ingrid and Glenn already are,” he reminded her. Their three-year old girl, Bresis, had her father’s hair and her mother’s eyes, and was already as much of a spit fire as her mother had been when they were young.

“Do you ever…” she paused, and he waited with bated breath for her to finish, “… think about it? Being parents?”

They had been married for almost five years, but they hadn’t discussed the topic much. Byleth had been taking the necessary herbs to prevent pregnancy since long before she’d moved to Gautier, and when she’d moved in, she’d informed him that she still wished to until she had better adjusted to their new life. His parents—especially his father—had adamantly protested that fact, but he cared little for that, and had insisted that she do whatever she felt most comfortable with. 

He was hesitant to bring up the topic for many reasons—his fears of being as terrible a father as his own was, his issues surrounding Crests, and his fear over the fact that Byleth’s mother had died in childbirth were only a few of them—but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t dream of having children with Byleth. Children that would be loved and cherished far more than he or Miklan ever were.

“Sometimes,” he whispered. He rinsed her hair and ran his fingers lightly through it before pulling her back into his chest. “Do you?”

“I don’t know the first thing about being a mother, mostly because I’ve never had one.” She turned around to face him, and he traced the scars on her arms and shoulders as her features became thoughtful. After several moments of silence, she cupped his cheek and softly said, “But… I want to raise a family with you.” 

“I _have_ been interviewing for more retainers so I have less of a workload. Though, I would request that we hire a few healers and nursemaids to help you along, if you do want to start trying.” He had to clear his throat in an effort to remove the lump that started to form. “I just… I can’t lose you.”

She smiled sadly before kissing him so tenderly his heart nearly exploded in his chest. “I love you, Sylvain Jose Gautier.”

He pulled her in until she straddled his legs and purred, “Does that mean we can start trying right now?”

She laughed brightly as she placed a hand over his mouth and in an exaggeratedly chiding tone said, “Now, now, Margrave Gautier, we have guests waiting for us.” He whined exaggeratedly and she kissed his forehead in consolation before standing and stepping out of their massive bathtub. “But… if you’re certain… I won’t be taking my herbs tonight, and you had plenty of ‘trying’ prior to our bath.” 

His heart stuttered in his chest as he watched her dry off her hair, wringing the length out before throwing it over her shoulder. She was so lovely it made his chest ache, humming softly as she moved about the washroom. In a volume barely above a whisper he asked, “Are you sure you want me to be the father of your children?” Her eyes softened as she walked back over to the bath. “I just… I have a father and a mother, and they are…”

“Not nearly as loving and kind as you are,” Byleth finished, pulling him to his feet. He stepped out and she began to slowly dry him off, leaving soft kisses on the newly dried skin. “We’ll figure it out the same way we’ve done everything else... Together. We’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

He followed her toward their shared dressing room as he quietly admitted, “Sometimes it feels like this is all a dream and I’m going to wake up to the life my parents always wanted me to have. I suppose I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she assured him. “You’re stuck with me, now.” She grabbed his ring from one of the shelves and slipped it onto his finger just as she had the day they married. “I promised ‘til death do we part, remember?”

“And you always keep your promises.” The image of Byleth pale beneath him as he begged her to stay with him came to mind unbidden, and he shuddered violently as she wrapped her arms around him. 

He was still haunted by nightmares of that day, sometimes waking in the middle of night with Byleth’s name a desperate cry on his lips. She has always been there beside him, and she always holds him, runs her hands through his sweaty hair, and whispers soothing phrases as he sobs into her shoulder. Sometimes it bothers him that Miklan was still haunting him, even all these years later, but he’s always able to find consolation in the fact that he has Byleth and all of his friends to support him when thoughts of his older brother plague him.

She cupped both sides of his face and softly prompted, “Breathe for me, baby.” He had been so stuck in his morbid thoughts that he hadn’t noticed he was hyperventilating. “I’m right here, and we’re both safe. I love you, Sylvain.”

“I love you,” he panted, leaning down until he could bury his face in her neck and pull her against him.

When his breathing had eased, she whispered, “It’s alright if you want to wait. I didn’t mean to pressure you into something you aren’t ready for,” as she ran her fingers through his drying hair. He realized that she thought his panic had stemmed from their earlier conversation and he clung to her as he shook his head.

“No. I want to have a family with you, too. I want our children to be loved, far more than Miklan and I ever were.” She hummed softly in acknowledgement, probably understanding that the panic was actually coming from thoughts of his elder brother. “We’ll love them no matter what. They’ll always have a home where they can feel safe and supported. I’ll make sure of it.”

She lovingly whispered, “I know you will. And I’ll be here to help you.” 

A knock sounded at the door and she pulled back to check that he was going to be alright before throwing a robe on and walking over to answer it. Two of her handmaids were on the other side, and the eldest one, Judith, bowed slightly before saying, “We’re here to help you get ready, my Lady.” They rarely ever performed these sorts of tasks, due to the fact that most of the time Byleth wore tunic and trousers, and plaited her hair just as she had when she was a mercenary, but he had requested that they come tonight to pamper her before the party. He shut the dressing room door and got to work on getting himself ready, while still taking fortifying breaths.

Their friends were waiting in the lounge, and he finally shook off the last of his earlier panic as he walked in and warmly greeted them. Dimitri was free of his regal attire, and stood near the fireplace with Felix and Ashe, Mercedes looked to be fussing over Annette, her hands glowing with faith magic as she checked the other woman’s bump and Dedue watched with a pleased smile on his face. Bernadetta was speaking with Ingrid, Glenn, and Delilah, and looked to be showing them something before she noticed him walk into the room and she hid it in a satchel at her feet.

“You’ve lost your wife,” Felix teased with a wry smirk.

“She’ll be here soon. She’s excited that all of you are here, it’s been far too long!” 

“I don’t believe we’ve all been in the same room since the wedding,” Dimitri commented, walking over to wrap an arm about Delilah’s waist with a lovesick grin.

“We’re all busy people,” Glenn sighed. “I suppose that’s just how it goes, isn’t it?” 

Ingrid nodded. “Yes, but it’s always nice to have an excuse to get together.”

He teasingly bemoaned, “What _will_ we do without the plethora of weddings?” 

“We’ll celebrate the plethora of babies!” Annette excitedly giggled. “Well, as soon as this thing gets out of me, anyway.” Ingrid frowned sympathetically and patted her shoulder.

Felix sank down onto the lounger on Annette’s other side and placed his hand on her belly as he quietly scolded, “Be kind to your mother.”

“That’s a tall order seeing as they are your spawn,” Glenn teased.

“Yes, because your ‘spawn’ is so well behaved,” Ingrid sighed wearily. “That girl is already quite the handful.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t when we were young,” Felix shot back with an accusing eyebrow raised. Ingrid punched his shoulder, and he swiped back at her like they were all still children. Even if they all bickered like mad, it was really nice having them all here.

He hadn’t even heard the door open, but he realized Byleth had arrived when she wrapped her arms around him from behind and leaned her head to the side to greet them all with a, “I see the bickering has begun, already.”

Mercedes stood from the lounger to walk over and pull Byleth into a hug. “Happy birthday, Byleth!” Now that she wasn’t behind him, he could comb his eyes over her. She wore a simple navy dress with her hair curled down her back, and it looked as if she’d even allowed the handmaids to put a bit of makeup on her. She looked absolutely beautiful, and as soon as Mercedes was done with her embrace, he tucked her into his side for safekeeping. Also, he just really enjoyed touching his wife. 

Ashe quietly prompted, “Would you like to show her now, Bernadetta?” Byleth looked up to him questioningly, but he shrugged, having no idea what was going on. 

Bernadetta timidly walked over with Ashe and thrust a book into Byleth’s waiting hands. On the cover was a couple that looked remarkably like he and Byleth, and the title elegantly looped across the top read “The Transformation of the Cursed Prince”.

“A-Ashe and I have been working on this for a long time now,” Bernadetta hurriedly explained. 

Ashe added, “With lots of help from Ingrid, Glenn, and Felix, of course.”

“Wait…” Byleth flipped through the novel, stopping on a few of the pages that bore beautiful illustrations. “You wrote this?!”

“Bernadetta did the illustrations as well,” Ashe added, a proud smile on his face as he kissed his wife on the temple.

“When Sylvain told me your guys’ story at Ingrid and Glenn’s wedding, I couldn’t help thinking it would make an interesting novel. Then… well… Ashe and I were talking about it and…”

“You wrote a book about us?” He couldn’t help chuckling incredulously as Byleth showed him a picture of a woman that looked incredibly similar to her, sitting beside a fire with an auburn-colored dog’s head on her lap. Her smile was gentle as she pet him, and his mind conjured memories of their time on the road to Fraldarius, when Byleth would do just that after he’d had another episode.

“Well, sort of,” Ashe corrected, with a flush across his cheeks. “It’s about a prince who is cursed by his jealous brother, turning him into a dog. Then he’s abandoned in the middle of nowhere.”

Bernadetta excitedly continued, “A beautiful mercenary woman finds him and agrees to help him break the curse. And… well you should just read it. I don’t want to spoil the ending.”

Byleth was still flipping through the pages with an awestruck look on her face, until she came across an illustration of what looked like her standing defensively in front of the dog, a determined look on her face as she held her sword aloft. She put a hand over her mouth and looked up at him with tears in her eyes. Byleth hardly ever cried—unfortunately, that was normally his thing—so he worried that it had upset her. He encircled her in his arms and she started to laugh wetly as she exclaimed, “I can’t wait to read this!”

He pushed her back to check on her, and he was relieved to find that she was smiling as she looked back down at the book in her hands. Felix gruffly commented, “It’s a bit cheesy, but it’s okay.” When he glanced over, he looked fairly emotional, as well. Annette rested her head on his shoulder with a fond smile on her face.

“You’ve read it?” Byleth asked in an awed whisper.

“Felix was our main resource,” Ashe chirped, looking pleased at their reactions. “Bernadetta and I wanted to be sure it stayed true to your story before we had it bound for you.”

“Are you going to publish it? I would love to read it,” Ingrid chimed.

“I would as well,” Mercedes exclaimed, her hands clasped over her heart as she looked over Byleth’s shoulder at the book.

“Well…” Ashe looked to Bernadetta imploringly.

“O-only if you guys like it!” she squeaked, before hiding her face in Ashe’s shoulder. 

Ashe held her as he chuckled, “We wanted to get your permission first, since it is basically your story. We wouldn’t say as much, but we don’t wish to offend you in any way.”

“Of course,” Byleth whispered. “We’ll read it as soon as we can.” Something told him they were going to be up reading all night, not that he was complaining. He was eager to see what they had gotten right and what they had changed.

He kissed Byelth on the top of her head before smiling as he said, “Yeah! This is so great you guys. Thank you!”

As soon as they had all retired for the evening, Byleth crawled into their bed with the book, without even changing out of her dress. He had to drag her to the washroom to clean her face, but other than stripping off her dress, that was all she did. He hardly minded, not when she sat between his legs and read aloud as he stroked her skin, mapping out the scars that he’d memorized over the years, including the one on her torso that had almost taken her from him.

They got several of the details right. The prince was a begrudging protagonist, known for his philandering ways, his careless attitude, and the trail of broken hearts he left behind. Still, he was the heir to the throne, and his younger brother was envious of him. When they were traveling toward a neighboring country to meet the woman that the heir was due to be betrothed to, the younger brother cursed him and left him behind—set on the idea of winning the neighboring king’s favor so he might have the princess for his wife and thus become king of the neighboring land.

The mercenary woman finds the prince, pouting and cursing his woeful circumstances, and takes pity on him. She offers to travel to a place on the other side of his lands, where many skilled witches and warlocks reside, in effort to help him break his curse. The prince is distrustful and petty at first—he couldn’t help hiding his face in Byleth’s shoulder as it burned with shame—but eventually he realizes he has no choice but to trust the resourceful woman.

After various dangers and adventures, they reached their destination, only to find that none of the witches or warlocks know how to fix the prince. When the mercenary woman begged them for information on anyone who could, one of the witches sent the duo on a quest to an enchanted forest, where a powerful fairy was rumored to reside. Unbeknownst to the protagonists, word of the prince’s efforts to be changed back had reached his brother’s ears, and he sent people to kill the mercenary woman and capture the cursed prince. As such, when they entered the enchanted forest, the villains ambushed the heroes. The mercenary woman begged the prince to flee, willing to sacrifice herself so that he could escape. He ran and hid, only to watch in horror as she was defeated.

Byleth’s voice wavered with emotion as she read, “Roderick sprang from his hiding place nestled in the shrubs, all thoughts but Gwyneth’s safety having fled his mind. As such, he failed to notice as powerful magic sprang from further within the forest and struck down the villains that had harmed his beloved traveling companion. He stood over her body as he cried out, “Do not perish now, Gwyneth, for you bear my very heart and soul. Cursed as I may be, I cannot bear a life without you. I love you, my dearest. Please, stay with me.”

“Moved by his desperate pleas, a radiant being stepped out from beneath the forest’s canopy. She was an ethereal beauty, with silver hair that flowed like water and trailed on the ground behind her as she stepped toward the prince. “Is your love true?” she asked, her voice like the wind singing through the trees.”

“Wretched man that I was, and cursed though I may be, I love her with all that I am,” he vowed. As he looked down at his beloved with eyes clouded by tears, he found her staring up at him through half-lidded eyes.” 

“She lifted a pale hand to his cheek and with her dying breath repeated, “With all that I am.” When her hand fell back to the earth, he released an agonized wail that rang through the trees as he lowered his head to his love’s body. Harnessing the power of their love, the Fairy Queen put forth a glowing hand and changed the lovers’ fate.”

“Roderick woke to sunlight streaming through the canopy of trees, and when his eyes landed upon Gwyneth’s lovely face, he wondered whether he had followed her into a glorious afterlife, having perished with a broken heart. Gwyneth’s smile was breathtakingly radiant as she stroked his cheek and said, “With all that I am, I love a handsome prince.” It was only when he raised his hand to hold her own that he realized that the curse had been broken—broken by the power of the love that they had for one another.”

“Unable to contain the joy that burned within his breast, Roderick rolled to his knees and seized Gewyneth’s face between his hands to draw her in for a passionate kiss, full of all of the longing and love that he had foolishly hidden from her for far too long. There, in the enchanted forest of the Fairy Queen, Roderick found the piece of him that he had been missing, and vowed to treasure Gwyneth forevermore.”

Byleth lightly drew a finger across the picture that filled the last page, of Gwyneth staring up at Roderick as he tenderly cups her cheek. His voice was rough from his tears as he cheekily commented, “Roderick had the right idea.” Byleth chuckled softly and placed the book down on the bed before she moved to straddle his legs, pulling his head to her chest. 

“Can I ask you a question?” she whispered, running her fingers pleasantly through his hair.

“Hm?” He hummed in question, unwilling to pull his head away from its makeshift pillow.

“When did you realize… you know… that you loved me?” She sounded so bashful as she asked, and he pulled his head from her breast to smile up at her.

“When did you?” he teased, though he had always secretly wondered.

“I asked first,” she pouted. 

He kissed her pout and hummed thoughtfully, though he knew already knew the answer to the question. He brushed a kiss across her collarbone before saying, “I fell in love with you the first night I crawled into your bedroll. I spent most of that night watching the fire, praying it would stay lit long enough to keep you warm as you slept, because I wanted to hold you so badly my whole body ached with it… but I couldn’t.” She tucked her head beneath his chin, and with slight difficulty he slid them down until they were horizontal on the bed with her weight settled comfortably on top of him.

He ran his fingers through her hair as he added, “Though, that’s not exactly the answer to your question. I didn’t realize this fact until after we had reached Fraldarius.” She lifted her head enough to look at him, and he brushed some hair from her face as he chuckled, “I was jealous of how well you and Felix got along. I told him how fortunate he was, that I had brought the woman of his dreams to his very doorstep. He told me I was projecting, that I loved you and I thought that he must, as well. And… that’s when everything just…” 

She teasingly said, “You’re telling me _Felix_ made you realize you were in love with me?” He pinched her sides in retaliation for her cheekiness, making her squirm on top of him with a breathless chuckle.

“I wanted him to look after you… if I never got changed back.”

“What?” She stopped and sat up so she could look down at him.

“I made him promise that he would look out for you if I didn’t get changed back. When I couldn’t talk anymore… I thought it was over. But Felix had agreed, and you were awake,” he reverently traced his fingertips over the scar that had almost taken her away from him, “I just wanted you to have someone, even if it wasn’t me.”

As she leaned over, her hair formed a curtain around their faces, making it so all he could see was her and her eyes so full of love he felt he might burst. She planted kisses across his face, eventually making her way to his ear where she whispered, “Have I ever told you that I adore you?”

He indignantly whined, “Hey! That’s my line!” making her laugh brightly. He used his weight to roll them so he had her pinned against the mattress—knowing full well it wouldn’t have happened if Byleth didn’t want it to—and pestered, “Besides, it’s your turn. When did you fall in love with me?”

She flushed so prettily, then, and he couldn’t help kissing the pinkish hue that bloomed across her cheeks. When he pulled back, she sighed, “This is going to sound stupid.”

“I bet it won’t,” he assured her.

“Well… mine wasn’t… as early as yours.”

“Understandable. I was a _dog_. Also, I was a pompous asshole, but that’s neither here nor there.” She bopped him on the nose with a finger as her gaze became critical.

“I had only seen _you_ for a few minutes. To be honest, dog you was all I knew…” She trailed off as her gaze became far away, and he littered her skin with kisses as he waited for her to speak again. “There was this moment… Annette had just changed you back, and you were lying there… still asleep. Suddenly it all just… came together in my mind. All that had happened, all that we’d been through, it was _you_ that was there with me.”

A frown marred her lovely features and he stopped his ministrations to meet her gaze. “I wanted to leave before you woke up, but Felix insisted that I had to stay until we knew for certain that you were alright, because I had promised that I would be with you until you were back to normal. Then… you woke up, and you… you had this big smile across your face… and when I saw it, I knew that I loved you.”

He pouted his lips as he cooed, “That has to be the cutest thing you have ever said.” 

She made that face, the one that always made his heart rate speed up as his blood rushed south, and groaned, “It was just _awful_.”

“Alright,” he playfully growled, “That’s enough out of you, my sassy mercenary.”

In between passionate kisses she panted out, “It’s nearly… sunrise…”

He murmured across her collarbone, “I want to try again,” and she grabbed him by the hair and gently pulled him up for a kiss.

As soon as they parted, she asked, “Are you certain?” Her eyes were completely serious, gone was the earlier playfulness, replaced by complete sincerity. “We don’t have to if you don’t feel ready. I completely understand if you aren’t.”

“I’m ready,” he promised. “I want to make you a mama. I think it’d suit you.” She chuckled, but nodded in assent to his questioning eyebrow and he dove down to kiss along her neck, enjoying her sighs of pleasure as he ran his hands along the curves of her body.

She ran her fingers through his hair as she breathily asked, “How young is too young for a dagger? Five? Jeralt will want to start them early.” He had already decided that he was not going to insert himself into that conversation. Byleth turned out just fine, didn’t she? It would be fine. Probably.

He had a feeling they were going to need extra nursemaids. Sturdy ones.

“We have to make a baby first, my crazy wife.”

He wasn’t sure what caused the change, but the playfulness ebbed into tenderness as she stroked his cheek and planted kisses on every inch of him that she could reach. “I love you,” she sighed, and he had another one of those moments, the ones where warm euphoria settles over him, and he can’t feel anything but fortunate to have the life he now has with her.

“I love you, too.”

**Sylvain & Byleth **

**With the support and counsel of his wife, Sylvain was able to improve relations with the Sreng people. It was long and tedious work, but with his cunning manner of speech and the help of King Dimitri Alexandra Blaiddyd and his Duscur bride, Faerghus was able to enter a new and peaceful age, with sweeping reforms that affected those of nobility and those of common birth.**

**Though known as a philanderer in his youth, Sylvain happily settled down after marriage and became a gentle and devoted husband and father. The happy couple had many children whom they doted on equally, regardless of whether or not they bore a Crest. When their eldest child, Sitri, became of age, Sylvain ceded his title to her. Once Sitri felt confident in her new role, Sylvain and Byleth left Gautier territory to travel the continent, only returning when Sitri had her first child. They settled into the house that Jeralt had built many years prior, and were said to live a life full of love and laughter.**

**“The Transformation of the Cursed Prince” was published throughout Fodlan and became widely read by the younger generation. It was rumored that the book was based off of the real-life experiences of Margrave Gautier and his former mercenary bride, though the rumors were never confirmed by the authors, who published under a pseudonym. When asked about it directly, Margrave Gautier was said to smile fondly as he always responded, “You could say there was transformation involved when I met my wife. I wouldn’t be who I am today without her.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! We did it! It's done! And I'm only a little bit teary. I've loved writing this story, and I'm almost sad it's over. I've absolutely loved hearing from all of you, and I hope you enjoyed how Sylvain and Byleth ended up. 
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, I also have a slow burn for Sylvain/Felix/Byleth where they meet as young teenagers, as well as many other works. I update almost weekly for my long fic, so check that out if you'd like. Either way, thank you for your comments, kudos, and good vibes! See you around!


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